|p Int erpretation Series of English Classics 
PS 

,Ai 

Longfellow's " Evangeline " 



Lucy Adelxa Sloan 




Class _._£5^^.k3 
Book '/i i 



Gopight}!! 



I^«f 



o^ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIE 



Longfellow's ^'Evangeline'' 

A Tale of Acadie 
A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 

WITH COMMENTS, OUTLINES, MAPS 
NOTES, AND QUESTIONS 



By 
Lucy Adella Sloan, M.S., M.Pd. 

Head of the Department of English 

Central State Normal School 

Mt. Pleasant, Michigan 



SLOAN PUBLISHING COMPANY 

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 






Copyright 1914 By 
Lucy Adella Sloan 



All Rights Reserved 



Published December igi4 



JAN -2 1915 



Composed and Printed By 

The University of Chicago Press 

Chicago, Illinois, U.S.A. 

y 
©CI.A393033 






is 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 






PAGE 



Introduction 5 

Sources of the Poem 5 

1. Banishment of the Acadians 5 

2. The Story of EvangeHne 6 

3. The Village and the Acadians 7 

Theme, Central Thought, Etc 7 

Time Outline 8 

Evangeline: A Tale of Acadie 10 

Prelude 10 

Part the First ...11 

Part the Second 31 

Conclusion 52 

Notes 53 

Suggestions for Notebook Work 58 

Interpretation 59 

Suggestive Questions 78 



INTRODUCTION 

"Evangeline" was written in 1847 by Henry Wadsworth 
Longfellow, of the Department of Modern Languages, at Harvard 
College, Born in 1807 at Portland, Maine, Longfellow entered 
Bowdoin College at the age of fourteen, graduated four years 
later, studied law a short time, was appointed to the chair of 
modern languages at Bowdoin College, spent four years in study 
in Europe, began teaching at Bowdoin at the age of twenty- 
two, and was said at that time to be the greatest scholar in Amer- 
ica. He taught at Bowdoin six years, was called at the end of 
that time to the same work at Harvard College, spent another 
year in study abroad, and began his work at Harvard at the age 
of twenty-nine. After eighteen years of successful work there 
he resigned his professorship in order to devote his time to litera- 
ture. He died in 1882, known, honored, and loved by the civilized 
world. 

SOURCES OF THE POEM 

I. Banishment of the Acadians. — The part of the poem deal- 
ing with the banishment of the Acadians is based upon histori- 
cal facts and is an imaginative account of real happenings. 
The home of Evangeline and her people, the Acadians, was in 
Nova Scotia. They were descended from French people who had 
settled there more than a hundred years before the banishment? 
which took place in 1775. During much of this time France 
and England were at war, and the Acadians were always ready 
to fight against the English. But in 17 13, forty- two years 
before the exile, France ceded Nova Scotia to England. The 
Acadians had no wish to become English subjects, but they were 
not consulted in the matter. During all these forty-two years 
they had refused to take the oath of allegiance to England and 
had been exempted from bearing arms against the French on 
condition that they remain strictly neutral and give no aid in 
any way to England's enemies. But war between England and 
France was again beginning. It was known that some of the 
Acadians had broken their promise of neutrality; it was feared 



6 Longfellow's "evangeline" 

that all of them would do so if favorable opportunity presented 
itself. So the banishment was conceived and carried out. The 
total population of Grand-Pre at the time is said to have been 
1,920. The entire number of Acadians banished is variously 
estimated at from 6,000 to 9,000 people. About 3,500 of them 
are said to have escaped to Canada. T)ie remainder were sent to 




Drawn by Mr. Everest 

Map Showing Location of Evangeline's Acadian Home 



North Carolina, Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, New York, 
Connecticut, and Massachusetts. 

2. The Story of Evangeline. — It is said that Hawthorne, while 
talking over the banishment of the Acadians with a friend, was 
told that the wedding of a young Acadian couple had been inter- 
rupted by the exile, that they were sent away in different ships, 
landed in different ports, and spent their lives searching for each 
other. From this as a foundation Longfellow built up the love 
story of the poem. 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 7 

3. The Village and the Acadians. — Longfellow did not visit 
Acadia either before or after the writing of Evangeline. Helen 
Clarke in her Longfellow^ s Country says, "By combining all he 
knew of the most beautiful of peasant life, Longfellow has given a 
picture of peace, plenty, and joyousness to be compared only with 
such imaginative flights as Morris' Dream of John Ball.'" He 
tells us that his knowledge of the idyllic virtues and piety of the 
Acadians was gleaned from the pages of Abbe Reynal, a French 
priest who himself never was in Acadia and had to depend on his 
inmgination for his details. As to the houses, barns, cattle, and 
horses, the primitive simplicity of life, the dress of the women, 
marriage customs, even the stories told by Rene Leblanc, several 
writers have pointed out that for all these Longfellow drew freely 
on his memory of what he had observed of village life in Sweden. 

THEME, CENTRAL THOUGHT, ETC. 

The theme is the Evangeline story. By means of this story 
as an illustration, the central thought, which is the "beauty and 
strength of woman's devotion," is made to shine out like a diamond 
in a setting of gold. It is in order that this central thought may 
be set forth that Evangeline does what she does and is what she 
is. Every detail of the poem is arranged with this in view. The 
strength of her devotion is shown, not only in the persistence with 
which she keeps up the disheartening search, but in the final 
test when she, at last, finds Gabriel, old, haggard, stricken with a 
loathsome disease, a pauper, dying in an almshouse, and takes 
him to her heart with joy and lavishes her thankful love upon his 
dying moments. Yet the beauty of her devotion lies not so 
much in this persistence of love, which is not, after all, unusual, 
as in the triumph of spirit with which she meets and endures, 
year after year, the mocking blows of an adverse fate. She never 
yields to despair, never loses her inward loyalty to right and good- 
ness. Life, to her, is always worth while, her own sweetness of 
spirit prevails, and at last turns the world, or her part of it, into 
a place of peace, "all illumined with love." It is at this point in 
the story, with this triumph of spirit, and with the finding of 
Gabriel a .ittle later that the poem reaches its climax. 



LONGFELLOW ' S " EVANGELINE ' 



TIME OUTLINE 



History shows that the Acadians were imprisoned in the 
church at Grand-Pre on September 5, and that on September 10 
the people were marched to the seashore, put on board the waiting 
vessels, and carried away. For the purposes of his story Long- 
fellow wished to have Evangeline's betrothal dance interrupted by 
the bell which summoned the men to the church where they were 
to be imprisoned. He also wished to have the warm Indian 
summer season as a background for the out-of-door betrothal 
festivities. Hence he moved the exile of the Acadians forward 
to the latter part of October. The time covered by the story 
is thirty-eight years. For the sake of getting the action more 
clearly before us, the time-sequence may be roughly estimated to 
be somewhat as follows: 

October 23, 1755, evening; Evangeline's betrothal contract. 
October 24, betrothal feast and dance; imprisonment of the men 

in the church. 
October 25, 26, 27, 28, women preparing for departure; men 

detained in the church. 
October 29, women cart goods to the shore; at sunset the men 

march to the shore; Gabriel put on board ship; Evangeline 

left on shore; village burned; her father dies. 
October 30, Evangeline sails. 

Interval— five days for the voyage. 
November 4, Evangeline landed at Philadelphia. 

Interval, probably not exceeding eight years, during which 
Evangeline lives in Philadelphia for a time and then searches for 
Gabriel in the towns of that region. 
April 25, 1763, she starts from western Pennsylvania with a small 

company of Acadians who have also lost friends and are 

going to Louisiana by way of the Ohio and Mississippi rivers 

to seek them. 
May 31, Evangeline and party asleep on an island in the Lakes of 

Atchafalaya while Gabriel passes them in a boat on his 

way northward. They awaken, continue their journey, and 

arrive at Basil's home in the evening. 

J 
1' 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 9 

June I, early morning, Evangeline and Basil follow Gabriel 
northwestward. 

June 7, arrive at Adayes and miss Gabriel by one day. 

June 30, arrive at the mission of the "Black Robe Chief" and miss 
Gabriel by a week. 
Interval, a year, during which Evangeline stays at the mission. 

July 15, 1764, Evangeline starts for Gabriel's hunting lodge on 
the banks of the Saginaw River, Michigan. 

October 15, arrives to find it deserted and in ruins. 

Interval of fifteen years during which Evangeline searches for 

Gabriel in camps, battle-fields, missions, towns, etc. 

August, 17/9, search abandoned; Evangeline returns to Phila- 
delphia. 
Interval of fourteen years during which Evangeline becomes a 

Sister of Mercy and works among the sick poor of the city. 

1793, summer, a pestilence breaks out in Philadelphia; the desti- 
tute are cared for at the poorhouse; Evangeline immediately 
begins working among them there. 

Sunday morning, a week or two later, Evangeline at her post in 
the almshouse; finds Gabriel who has been brought in during 
the night; death of Gabriel. 




By courtesy of the Southern Pacific — "Sunset Route " 

Bayou Teche, New Iberia, Louisiana 
EVANGELINE 

A TALE OF ACADIE 
Prelude 
This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hem- 
locks, 
Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight 
Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic, 
Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms. 
Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean 5 

Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest. 
This is the forest primeval; but where are the hearts that 
beneath it 
Leaped like the roe when he hears in the woodland the voice of the 

huntsman ? 
Where is the thatch-roofed village, the home of Acadian farmers. 
Men whose lives glided on like rivers that water the woodlands, 10 

Darkened by shadows of earth but reflecting an image of heaven ? 
Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farmers forever departed! 
Scattered like dust and leaves when the mighty blasts of October 
Seize them, and whirl them aloft, and sprinkle them far o'er the ocean. 
Naught but tradition remains of the beautiful village of Grand-Pre. 15 

Ye who believe in affection that hopes and endures and is patient, 
Ye who believe in the beauty and strength of woman's devotion, 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION II 

List to the mournful tradition still sung by the pines of the forest; 
List to a Tale of Love in Acadie, home of the happy. 

Part the First 
I 
In the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin of Minas, 
Distant, secluded, still, the little village of Grand-Pre 
Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched to the eastward, 
Giving the village its name, and pasture to flocks without number. 
Dikes, that the hands of the farmers had raised with labor incessant, 5 
Shut out the turbulent tides; but at stated seasons the flood-gates 
Opened, and welcomed the sea to wander at will o'er the meadows. 
West and south there were fields of flax, and orchards and cornfields 
Spreading afar and unfenced o'er the plain; and away to the north- 
ward 
Blomidon rose and the forests old, and aloft on the mountains 10 

Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the mighty Atlantic 
Looked on the happy valley but ne'er from their station descended. 
There, in the midst of its farms, reposed the Acadian village. 
Strongly built were the houses, with frames of oak and of chestnut, 
Such as the peasants of Normandy built in the reign of the Henries. 15 
Thatched were the roofs, with dormer-windows; and gables projecting 
Over the basement below protected and shaded the door-way. 
There in the tranquil evenings of summer, when brightly the sunset 
Lighted the village street and gilded the vanes on the chimneys, 
Matrons and maidens sat, in snow-white caps and in kirtles 20 

Scarlet and blue and green, with distaffs spinning the golden 
Flax for the gossiping looms, whose noisy shuttles within doors 
Mingled their sound with the whir of the wheels and the songs of the 

maidens. 
Solemnly down the street came the parish priest, and the children 
Paused in their play to kiss the hand he extended to bless them: 25 

Reverend walked he among them; and up rose matrons and maidens. 
Hailing his slow approach with words of affectionate welcome. 
Then came the laborers home from the field; and serenely the sun sank 
Down to his rest, and twilight prevailed. Anon from the belfry 
Softly the Angelus sounded, and over the roofs of the village 30 

Columns of pale blue smoke, like clouds of incense ascending. 
Rose from a hundred hearths, the homes of peace and contentment. 
Thus dwelt together in love these simple Acadian farmers, 
Dwelt in the love of God and of man. Alike were they free from 



12 




A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 



13 



Fear, that reigns with tlie tyrant, and envy, the vice of republics: 35 

Neither locks had they to their doors nor bars to their windows, 

But their dwellings were open as day and the hearts of the owners; 

There the richefet was poor, and the poorest lived in abundance. 
Somewhat apart from the village, and nearer the Basin of 
Minas, 

Benedict Bellefontaine, the wealthiest farmer of Grand-Pre, 40 

Dwelt on his goodly acres; and with him, directing his household. 

Gentle Evangeline lived, his child, and the pride of the village. 

Stal worth and stately in form was the man of seventy winters; 

Hearty and hale was he, an oak that is covered with snow-flakes; 

White as the snow were his locks, and his cheeks as brown as the oak- 
leaves, ^r 

Fair was she to behold, that maiden of seventeen summers. 

Black were her eyes as the berry that grows on the thorn by the 
wayside — 

Black, yet how softly they gleamed beneath the brown shade of her 
tresses ! 

Sweet was her breath as the breath of kine that feed in the meadows. 
When in the harvest heat she bore to the reapers at noontide 50 

Flagons of home-brewed ale, ah, fair in sooth was the maiden. 
Fairer was she when, on Sunday morn, while the bell from its turret 
Sprinkled with holy sounds the air, as the priest with his hyssop 
Sprinkles the congregation and scatters blessings upon them, 
Down the long street she passed with her chaplet of beads and her 

missal, rr 

Wearing her Norman cap, and her kirtle of blue, and the ear-rings 
Brought in the olden time from France, and since, as an heirloom. 
Handed down from mother to child, through long generations. 
But a celestial brightness, a more ethereal beauty. 

Shone on her face and encircled her form when, after confession, 60 

Homeward serenely she walked with God's benediction upon her: 
When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite music. 

Firmly builded with rafters of oak, the house of the farmer 
Stood on the side of a hill commanding the sea; and a shady 
Sycamore grew by the door, with a woodbine wreathing around it. 65 
Rudely carved was the porch, with seats beneath; and a footpath 
Led through an orchard wide, and disappeared in the meadow. 
Under the sycamore-tree were hives overhung by a penthouse. 
Such as the traveller sees in regions remote by the roadside, 
Built o'er a box for the poor, or the blessed image of Mary. 70 



14 Longfellow's 

Farther down, on the slope of the hill, was the well with its moss- 
grown 
Bucket, fastened with iron, and near it a trough for the horses. 
Shielding the house from storms, on the north, were the bams and 

the farm-yard. 
There stood the broad-wheeled wains and the antique ploughs and 

the harrows; 
There were the folds for the sheep; and there, in his feathered 

seraglio, 75 

Strutted the lordly turkey, and crowed the cock with the self-same 
Voice that in ages of old had startled the penitent Peter. 
Bursting with hay were the barns, themselves a village : in each one 
Far o'er the gable projected a roof of thatch; and a staircase, 
Under the sheltering eaves, led up to the odorous corn-loft. 80 

There too the dove-cot stood, with its meek and innocent inmates 
Murmuring ever of love, while above in the variant breezes 
Numberless noisy weathercocks rattled and sang of mutation. 

Thus, at peace with God and the world, the farmer of Grand-Pre 
Lived on his sunny farm, and Evangeline governed his household. 85 
Many a youth, as he knelt in the church and opened his missal, 
Fixed his eyes upon her, as the saint of his deepest devotion; 
Happy was he who might touch her hand or the hem of her garment ! 
Many a suitor came to her door, by the darkness befriended. 
And as he knocked and waited to hear the sound of her footsteps, 90 
Knew not which beat the louder, his heart or the knocker of iron; 
Or at the joyous feast of the Patron Saint of the village. 
Bolder grew, and pressed her hand in the dance as he whispered 
Hurried words of love, that seemed a part of the music. 
But among all who came young Gabriel only was welcome, 95 

Gabriel Lajeunesse, the son of Basil the blacksmith, 
Who was a mighty man in the village, and honored of all men — 
For since the birth of time, throughout all ages and nations, 
Has the craft of the smith been held in repute by the people. 
Basil was Benedict's friend. Their children from earliest childhood 100 
Grew up together as brother and sister; and Father Felician, 
Priest and pedagogue both in the village, had taught them their 

letters 
Out of the selfsame book, with the hymns of the church and the 

plain-song. 
But when the hymn was sung, and the daily lesson completed, 
Swiftly they hurried away to the forge of Basil the blacksmith. 105 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 1 5 

There at the door they stood, with wondering eyes to behold him 
Take in his leathern lap the hoof of the horse as a plaything, 
Nailing the shoe in its place; while near him the tire of the cart- 
wheel 
Lay like a fiery snake, coiled round in a circle of cinders. 
Oft on autumnal eves, when without in the gathering darkness no 

Bursting with light seemed the smithy through every cranny and 

crevice, / 

Warm by the forge within they watched the laboring bellows; 
And as its panting ceased, and the sparks expired in the ashes. 
Merrily laughed, and said they were nuns going into the chapel. 
Oft on sledges in winter, as swift as the swoop of the eagle, 115 

Down the hillside bounding, they glided away o'er the meadow. 
Oft in the barns they climbed to the populous nests on the rafters, 
Seeking with eager eyes that wondrous stone which the swallow 
Brings from the shore of the sea to restore the sight of its fledglings; 
Lucky was he who found that stone in the nest of the swallow! 120 

Thus passed a few swift years, and they no longer were children. 
He was a valiant youth; and his face, like the face of the morning. 
Gladdened the earth with its light, and ripened thought into action. 
She was a woman now, with the heart and hopes of a woman. 
' Sunshine of Saint Eulalie " was she called; for that was the sunshine 125 
Which, as the farmers believed, would load their orchards with 

apples: 
She, too, would bring to her husband's house delight and abundance, 
Filling it full of love and the ruddy faces of children. 

n 

Now had the season returned when the nights grow colder and 

longer, 
And the retreating sun the sign of the Scorpion enters. 130 

Birds of passage sailed through the leaden air from the ice-bound, 
Desolate northern bays to the shores of tropical islands. 
Harvests were gathered in; and wild with the winds of September 
Wrestled the trees of the forest, as Jacob of old with the angel. 
All the signs foretold a winter long and inclement: 135 

Bees, with prophetic instinct of want, had hoarded their honey 
Till the hives overflowed; and the Indian hunters asserted 
Cold would the winter be, for thick was the fur of the foxes. 
Such was the advent of autumn. Then followed that beautiful 

season 



i6 Longfellow's 

Called Tsy the pious Acadian peasants the Summer of All-Saints. 140 

Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the land- 
scape 
Lay as if new-created in all the freshness of childhood. 
Peace seemed to reign upon earth, and the restless heart of the 

ocean 
Was for a moment consoled. All sounds were in harmony blended. 
Voices of children at play, the crowing of cocks in the farm-yards, 145 
Whir of wings in the drowsy air, and the cooing of pigeons, 
All were subdued and low as the murmurs of love; and the great 

sun 
Looked with the eye of love through the golden vapors around him; 
While, arrayed in its robes of russet and scarlet and yellow. 
Bright with the sheen of the dew, each glittering tree of the forest 150 
Flashed like the plane-tree the Persian adorned with mantles and 

jewels. 
Now recommenced the reign of rest and affection and stillness. 
Day with its burden and heat had departed, and twilight descending 
Brought back the evening star to the sky, and the herds to the 

homestead: 
Pawing the ground they came, and resting their necks on each 

other, 155 

And with their nostrils distended inhaling the freshness of evening. 
Foremost, bearing the bell, Evangeline's beautiful heifer. 
Proud of her snow-white hide and the ribbon that waved from her 

collar. 
Quietly paced and slow, as if conscious of human affection. 
Then came the shepherd back with his bleating flocks from the seaside, 160 
Where was their favorite pasture. Behind them followed the 

watch-dog, 
Patient, full of importance, and grand in the pride of his instinct, 
Walking from side to side with a lordly air, and superbly 
Waving his bushy tail, and urging forward the stragglers: 
Regent of flocks was he when the shepherd slept; their protector 165 
When from the forest at night, through the starry silence the 

wolves howled. 
Late, with the rising moon, returned the wains from the marshes, 
Laden with briny hay, that filled the air with its odor. 
Cheerily neighed the steeds, with dew on their manes and their 

fetlocks, 
While aloft on their shoulders the wooden and ponderous saddles, 170 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 1 7 

Painted with brilliant dyes, and adorned with tassels of crimson, 
Nodded in bright array, like hollyhocks heavy with blossoms. 
Patiently stood the cows meanwhile, and yielded their udders 
Unto the milkmaid's hand; whilst loud and in regular cadence 
Into the sounding pails the foaming streamlets descended. 175 

Lowing of cattle and peals of laughter were heard in the farm-yard, 
Echoed back by the barns. Anon they sank into stillness, 
Heavily closed, with a jarring sound, the valves of the barn-doors. 
Rattled the wooden bars, and all for a season was silent. 

Indoors, warm by the wide-mouthed fireplace, idly the farmer 180 
Sat in his elbow-chair, and watched how the flames and the smoke- 
wreaths 
Struggled together like foes in a burning city. Behind him. 
Nodding and mocking along the wall, with gestures fantastic, 
Darted his own huge shadow, and vanished away into darkness. 
Faces, clumsily carved in oak, on the back of his arm-chair 185 

Laughed in the flickering light; and the pewter plates on the dresser 
Caught and reflected the flame, as shields of armies the sunshine. 
Fragments of song the old man sang, and carols of Christmas, 
Such as at home, in the olden time, his fathers before him 
Sang in their Norman orchards and bright Burgundian vineyards. 190 
Close at her father's side was the gentle Evangeline seated, 
Spinning flax for the loom, that stood in the corner behind her. 
Silent awhile were its treadles, at rest was its diligent shuttle, 
While the monotonous drone of the wheel, like the drone of a 

bagpipe. 
Followed the old man's song and united the fragments together, 195 

As in a church, when the chant of the choir at intervals ceases, 
Footfalls are heard in the aisles, or words of the priest at the altar. 
So, in each pause of the song, with measured motion the clock 
clicked. 
Thus as they sat, there were footsteps heard, and, suddenly 
lifted, 
Sounded the wooden latch, and the door swung back on its hinges. 200 
Benedict knew by the hob-nailed shoes it was Basil the blacksmith, 
And by her beating heart Evangeline knew who was with him. 
"Welcome!" the farmer exclaimed, as their footsteps paused on the 

threshold, 
"Welcome, Basil, my friend! Come, take thy place on the settle 
Close by the chimney-side, which is always empty without thee; 205 

Take from the shelf overhead thy pipe and the box of tobacco; 



i8 Longfellow's 

Never so much thyself art thou as when through the curling 
Smoke of the pipe or the forge thy friendly and jovial face gleams 
Round and red as the harvest moon through the mist of the 

marshes." 
Then, with a smile of content, thus answered Basil the blacksmith, 210 
Taking with easy air the accustomed seat by the fireside: 

"Benedict Bellefontaine, thou hast ever thy jest and thy ballad! 
Ever in cheerfullest mood art thou, when others are filled with 
Gloomy forebodings of ill, and see only ruin before them. 
Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked up a horse- 
shoe." 215 
Pausing a moment, to take the pipe that Evangeline brought him, 
And with a coal from the embers had lighted, he slowly continued: 

"Four days now are passed since the English ships at their anchors 
Ride in the Gaspereau's mouth, with their cannon pointed against us. 
What their design may be is unknown; but all are commanded 220 

On the morrow to meet in the church, where his Majesty's mandate 
Will be proclaimed as law in the land. Alas, in the mean time 
Many surmises of evil alarm the hearts of the people." 
Then made answer the farmer: " Perhaps some friendlier purpose 
Brings these ships to our shores. Perhaps the harvests in England 225 
By untimely rains or untimelier heat have been blighted, 
And from our bursting barns they would feed their cattle and 
children." 

"Not so thinketh the folk in the village," said warmly the black- 
smith. 
Shaking his head as in doubt; then, heaving a sigh, he continued: 

"Louisburg is not forgotten, nor Beau Sejour, nor Port Royal. 230 

Many already have fled to the forest, and lurk on its outskirts, 
Waiting with anxious hearts the dubious fate of to-morrow. 
Arms have been taken from us, and warlike weapons of all kinds; 
Nothing is left but the blacksmith's sledge and the scythe of the 

mower." 
Then with a pleasant smile made answer the jovial farmer: 235 

" Safer are we unarmed, in the midst of our flocks and our cornfields, 
Safer within these peaceful dikes, besieged by the ocean, 
Than our fathers in forts, besieged by the enemy's cannon. 
Fear no evil, my friend, and to-night may no shadow of sorrow 
Fall on this house and hearth; for this is the night of the contract. 240 
Built are the house and the barn: the merry lads of the village 
Strongly have built them and well; and, breaking the glebe round 
about them, 



255 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION' 1 9 

Filled the barn with hay, and the house with food for a twelve- 
month. 
Rene Leblanc will be here anon, with his papers and ink-horn. 
Shall we not, then, be glad, and rejoice in the joy of our children ?" 245 
As apart by the window she stood, with her hand in her lover's. 
Blushing Evangeline heard the words that her father had spoken, 
And as they died on his lips the worthy notary entered. 

Ill 
Bent like a laboring oar that toils in the surf of the ocean. 
Bent, but not broken, by age was the form of the notary public; 250 

Shocks of yellow hair, like the silken floss of the maize, hung 
Over his shoulders; his forehead was high; and glasses with horn- 
bows 
Sat astride on his nose, with a look of wisdom supernal. 
Father of twenty children was he; and more than a hundred 
Children's children rode on his knee, and heard his great watch 

tick. 
Four long years in the times of the war had he languished a captive. 
Suffering much in an old French fort as the friend of the English. 
Now, though warier grown, without all guile or suspicion. 
Ripe in wisdom was he, but patient and simple and childlike. 
He was beloved by all, and most of all by the children; 260 

For he told them tales of the Loup-garou in the forest. 
And of the goblin that came in the night to water the horses, 
And of the white Letiche, the ghost of a child who unchristened 
Died, and was doomed to haunt unseen the chambers of children; 
And how on Christmas eve the oxen talked in the stable, 265 

And how the fever was cured by a spider shut up in a nutshell. 
And of the marvellous powers of four-leaved clover and horse-shoes, 
With whatsoever else was writ in the lore of the village. 
Then up rose from his seat by the fireside Basil the blacksmith. 
Knocked from his pipe the ashes, and slowly extending his right 

hand, 270 

'Father Leblanc," he exclaimed, "thou hast heard the talk in the 

village. 
And perchance canst tell us some news of these ships and their 

errand." 
Then with modest demeanor made answer the notary public : 
' Gossip enough have I heard, in sooth, yet am never the wiser; 
And what their errand may be I know not better than others, 275 



20 Longfellow's 

Yet am I not of those who imagine some evil intention 

Brings them here; for we are at peace, and why, then, molest us?" 

'God's name!" shouted the hasty and somewhat irascible black- 
smith; 

* Must we in all things look for the how and the why and the where- 

. fore? 
Daily injustice is done, and might is the right of the strongest!" 280 

But, without heeding his warmth, continued the notary public: 

'Man is unjust, but God is just, and finally justice 
Triumphs; and well I remember a story, that often consoled me. 
When as a captive I lay in the old French fort at Port Royal." 
This was the old man's favorite tale, and he loved to repeat it 285 

When his neighbors complained that any injustice was done them. 

'Once in an ancient city, whose name I no longer remember. 
Raised aloft on a column, a brazen statue of Justice 
Stood in the public square, upholding the scales in its left hand 
And in its right a sword, as an emblem that justice presided 290 

Over the laws of the land and the hearts and homes of the people. 
Even the birds had built their nests in the scales of the balance, 
Having no fear of the sword that flashed in the sunshine above them. 
But in the course of time the laws of the land were corrupted; 
Might took the place of right, and the weak were oppressed, and 

the mighty 295 

Ruled with an iron rod. Then it chanced in a nobleman's palace 
That a necklace of pearls was lost, and erelong a suspicion 
Fell on an orphan girl who lived as maid in the household. 
She, after form of trial condemned to die on the scaffold. 
Patiently met her doom at the foot of the statue of Justice. 300 

As to her Father in heaven her innocent spirit ascended, 
Lo, o'er the city a tempest rose; and the bolts of the thunder 
Smote the statue of bronze, and hurled in wrath from its left hand 
Down on the pavement below the clattering scales of the balance. 
And in the hollow thereof was found the nest of a magpie, 305 

Into whose clay-built walls the necklace of pearls was inwoven." 
Silenced but not convinced, when the story was ended the black- 
smith 
Stood like a man who fain would speak but findeth no language; 
All his thoughts were congealed into lines on his face, as the vapors 
Freeze in fantastic shapes on the window-panes in the winter. 310 

Then Evangeline lighted the brazen lamp on the table. 
Filled, till it overflowed, the pewter tankard with home-brewed 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 21 

Nut-brown ale, that was famed for its strength in the village of 

Grand-Pre; 
While from his pocket the notary drew his papers and ink-horn, 
Wrote with a steady hand the date and the age of the parties, 315 

Naming the dower of the bride in flocks of sheep and in cattle. 
Orderly all things proceeded, and duly and well were completed, 
And the great seal of the law was set like a sun on the margin. 
Then from his leathern pouch the farmer threw on the table 
Three times the old man's fee in solid pieces of silver; 320 

And the notary, rising, and blessing the bride and the bridegroom, 
Lifted aloft the tankard of ale and drank to their welfare. 
Wiping the foam from his lip, he solenmly bowed and departed, 
While in silence the others sat and mused by the fireside. 
Till Evangeline brought the draught-board out of its corner. 325 

Soon was the game begun: in friendly contention the old men 
Laughed at each lucky hit or unsuccessful manoeuvre, 
Laughed when a man was crowned or a breach was made in the 

king-row. 
Meanwhile apart, in the twilight gloom of a window's embrasure. 
Sat the lovers and whispered together, beholding the moon rise 330 

Over the pallid sea and the silvery mist of the meadows. 
Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, 
Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels. 

Thus was the evening passed. Anon the bell from the belfry 
Rang out the hour of nine, the village curfew, and straightway 335 

Rose the guests and departed; and silence reigned in the house- 
hold. 
Many a farewell word and sweet good-night on the door-step 
Lingered long in Evangeline's heart, and filled it with gladness. 
Carefully then were covered the embers that glowed on the hearth- 
stone. 
And on the oaken stairs resounded the tread of the farmer. 340 

Soon with a soundless step the foot of Evangeline followed: 
Up the staircase moved a luminous space in the darkness, 
Lighted less by the lamp than the shining face of the maiden. 
Silent she passed the hall, and entered the door of her chamber. 
Simple that chamber was, with its curtains of white, and its clothes- 
press 345 
Ample and high, on whose spacious shelves were carefully folded 
Linen and woollen stuffs, by the hand of Evangeline woven: 
This was the precious dower she would bring to her husband in 
marriage,' 



22 Longfellow's "evangeline" 

Better than flocks and herds, being proofs of her skill as a housewife. 
Soon she extinguished her lamp, for the mellow and radiant moon- 
light - 350 
Streamed through the windows and lighted the room, till the heart 

of the maiden 
Swelled and obeyed its power, like the tremulous tides of the ocean. 
Ah, she was fair, exceeding fair to behold, as she stood with 
Naked snow-white feet on the gleaming floor of her chamber! 
Little she dreamed that below, among the trees of the orchard, 355 

Waited her lover and watched for the gleam of her lamp and her 

shadow. 
Yet were her thoughts of him, and at times a feeling of sadness 
Passed o'er her soul, as the sailing shade of clouds in the moon- 
light 
Flitted across the floor and darkened the room for a moment. 
And as she gazed from the window, she saw serenely the moon pass 360 
Forth from the folds of a cloud, and one star follow her footsteps, 
As out of Abraham's tent young Ishmael wandered with Hagar! 

IV 

Pleasantly rose next morn the sun on the village of Grand-Pre. 

Pleasantly gleamed in the soft, sweet air the Basin of Minas, 

Where the ships, with their wavering shadows, were riding at 

anchor. 365 

Life had long been astir in the village, and clamorous labor 

Knocked with its hundred hands at the golden gates of the morning. 

Now from the country around, from the farms and neighboring 
hamlets, 

Came in their holiday dresses the blithe Acadian peasants. 

Many a glad good- morrow and jocund laugh from the young folk 370 

Made the bright air brighter, as up from the numerous meadows, 

Where no path could be seen but the track of wheels in the green- 
sward, 

Group after group appeared, and joined, or passed on the highway. 

Long ere noon, in the village all sounds of labor were silenced. 

Thronged were the streets with people; and noisy groups at the 

house-doors 375 

Sat in the cheerful sun, and rejoiced and gossiped together. 

Every house was an inn, where all were welcomed and feasted; 

For with this simple people, who lived like brothers together. 

All things were held in common, and what one had was another's. 



390 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 23 

Yet under Benedict's roof hospitality seemed more abundant: 380 

For Evangeline stood among the guests of her father; 
Bright was her face with smiles, and wosds of welcome and gladness 
Fell from her beautiful lips and blessed the cup as she gave it. 

Und^r the open sky, in the odorous air of the orchard 
Stript of its golden fruit, was spread the feast of betrothal. 385 

There in the shade of the porch were the priest and the notary 

seated; 
There good Benedict sat, and sturdy Basil the blacksmith. 
Not far withdrawn from these, by the cider-press and the beehives, 
Michael the fiddler was placed, with the gayest of hearts and of 

waistcoats: 
Shadow and light from the leaves alternately played on his snow- 
white 
Hair, as it waved in the wind; and the jolly face of the fiddler 
Glowed like a living coal when the ashes are blown from the embers. 
Gayly the old man sang to the vibrant sound of his fiddle, 
Tous Us Bourgeois de Chartres and Le Carillon de Dunkerque, 
And anon with his wooden shoes beat time to the music. 395 

Merrily, merrily whirled the wheels of the dizzying dances 
Under the orchard- trees and down the path to the meadows; 
Old folk and young together, and children mingled among them. 
Fairest of all the maids was Evangeline, Benedict's daughter! 
Noblest of all the youths was Gabriel, son of the blacksmith! 400 

So passed the morning away. And, lo, with a summons sonorous 
Sounded the bell from its tower, and over the meadows a drum beat. 
Thronged erelong was the church with men. Without, in the 

churchyard, 
Waited the women: they stood by the graves, and hung on the 

headstones 
Garlands of autumn leaves and evergreens fresh from the forest. 405 

Then came the guard from the ships, and, marching proudly 

among them, 
Entered the sacred portal : with loud and dissonant clangor 
Echoed the sound of their brazen drums from ceiling and casement. 
Echoed a moment only, and slowly the ponderous portal 
Closed, and in silence the crowd awaited the will of the soldiers. 410 
Then up rose their commander, and spake from the steps of the 

altar, 
Holding aloft in his hands, with its seals, the royal commission: 
"You are convened this day," he said, "by his Majesty's orders. 



24 Longfellow's 

Clement and kind has he been; but how you have answered his 

kindness, 
Let your own hearts reply! To my natural make and my temper 415 
Painful the task is I do, which to you I know must be grievous; 
Yet must I bow and obey, and deliver the will of our monarch: 
Namely, that all your lands and dwellings and cattle of all kinds 
Forfeited be to the crown; and that you yourselves from this 

province 
Be transported to other lands, God grant you may dwell there 420 

Ever as faithful subjects, a happy and peaceable people! 
Prisoners now I declare you, for such is his Majesty's pleasure!" 
As, when the air is serene in the sultry solstice of summer, 
Suddenly gathers a storm, and the deadly sling of the hailstones 
Beats down the farmer's corn in the field and shatters his windows, 425 
Hiding the sun and strewing the ground with thatch from the house- 
roofs. 
Bellowing fly the herds and seek to break their inclosures; 
So on the hearts of the people descended the words of the speaker. 
Silent a moment they stood in speechless wonder, and then rose 
Louder and ever louder a wail of sorrow and anger, 430 

And, by one impulse moved, they madly rushed to the doorway. 
Vain was the hope of escape; and cries and fierce imprecations 
Rang through the house of prayer, and high o'er the heads of the 

others 
Rose, with his arms uplifted, the figure of Basil the blacksmith. 
As, on a stormy sea, a spar is tossed by the billows: 435 

Flushed was his face and distorted with passion, and wildly, he 

shouted, 
'Down with the tyrants of England! We never have sworn them 

allegiance ! 
Death to these foreign soldiers, who seize on our homes and our 

harvests!" 
More he fain would have said, but the merciless hand of a soldier 
Smote him upon the mouth and dragged him down to the pave- 
ment. 440 
In the midst of the strife and tumult of angry contention, 
Lo, the door of the chancel opened, and Father Felidan 
Entered, with serious mien, and ascended the steps of the altar. 
Raising his reverend hand, with a gesture he awed into silence 
All that clamorous throng; and thus he spake to his people 445 
(Deep were his tones ajjd solemn; in accents measured and mourn- 
ful 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 25 

Spake he, as, after the tocsin's alarum, distinctly the clock strikes) : 
''What is this that ye do, my children? What madness has seized 
you? 
Forty years of my life have I labored among you, and taught you, 
Not in word alone, but in deed, to love one another! 450 

Is this the fruit of my toils, of my vigils and prayers and privations ? 
Have you so soon forgotten all lessons of love and forgiveness ? 
This is the house of the Prince of Peace, and would you profane it 
Thus with violent deeds and hearts overflowing with hatred ? 
Lo, where the crucified Christ from his cross is gazing upon you! 455 
See! in those sorrowful eyes what meekness and holy compassion! 
Hark! how those lips still repeat the prayer, 'O Father, forgive 

them!' 
Let us repeat that prayer in the hour when the wicked assail us; 
Let us repeat it now, and say, 'O Father, forgive them!'" 
Few were his words of rebuke, but deep in the hearts of his people 460 
Sank they, and sobs of contrition succeeded the passionate out- 
break; 
While they repeated his prayer, and said, "O Father, forgive them!" 
Then came the evening service. The tapers gleamed from the 
altar. 
Fervent and deep was the voice of the priest, and the people 

responded. 
Not with their lips alone, but their hearts; and the Ave Maria 465 

Sang they, and fell on their knees, and their souls, with devotion 

translated. 
Rose o«i the ardor of prayer, like Elijah ascending to heaven. 

Meanwhile had spread in the village the tidings of ill, and on 
all sides 
Wandered, wailing, from house to house the women and children. 
Long at her father's door Evangeline stood, with her right hand 470 

Shielding her eyes from the level rays of the sun, that, descending. 
Lighted the village street with mysterious splendor, and roofed each 
Peasant's cottage with golden thatch, and emblazoned its windows. 
Long within had been spread the snow-white cloth on the table: 
There stood the wheaten loaf, and the honey fragrant with wild 

flowers; 475 

There stood the tankard of ale, and the cheese fresh brought from 

the dairy, 
And at the head of the board the great arm-chair of the farmer. 
Thus did Evangeline wait at her father's door, as the sunset 



26 Longfellow's 

Threw the long shadows of trees o'er the broad ambrosial meadows. 
Ah, on her spirit within a deeper shadow had fallen, 480 

And from the fields of her soul a fragrance celestial ascended — 
Charity, meekness, love, and hope, and forgiveness, and patience! 
Then, all-forgetful of self, she wandered into the village, 
Cheering with looks and words the mournful hearts of the women, 
As o'er the darkening fields with lingering steps they departed, 485 

Urged by their household cares and the weary feet of their children. 
Down sank the great red sun, and in golden, glimmering vapors 
Veiled the light of his face, like the Prophet descending from Sinai. 
Sweetly over the village the bell of the Angelus sounded. 

Meanwhile, amid the gloom, by the church Evangeline lingered. 490 
All was silent within; and in vain at the door and the windows 
Stood she, and listened and looked, till, overcome by emotion, 
'Gabriel!" cried she aloud with tremulous voice; but no answer 
Came from the graves of the dead nor the gloomier grave of the 

living. 
Slowly at length she returned to the tenantless house of her father: 495 
Smouldered the fire on the hearth, on the board was the supper 

untasted; 
Empty and drear was each room, and haunted with phantoms of 

terror; 
Sadly echoed her step on the stair and the floor of her chamber. 
In the dead of the night she heard the disconsolate rain fall 
Loud on the withered leaves of the sycamore- tree by the window; 500 
Keenly the lightning flashed; and the voice of the echoing thunder 
Told her that God was in heaven and governed the world he created! 
Then she remembered the tale she had heard of the justice of 

heaven; 
Soothed was her troubled soul, and she peacefully slumbered till 

morning. 

v 

Four times the sun had risen and set; and now on the fifth day 505 

Cheerily called the cock to the sleeping maids of the farmhouse. 
Soon o'er the yellow fields, in silent and mournful procession. 
Came from the neighboring hamlets and farms the Acadian women, 
Driving in ponderous wains their household goods to the sea-shore. 
Pausing and looking back to gaze once more on their dwellings, 510 

Ere they were shut from sight by the winding road and the wood- 
land. 
Close at their sides their children ran, and urged on the oxen, 



520 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 27 

While in their little hands they clasped some fragments of play- 
things. 
Thus to the Gaspereau's mouth they hurried; and there on the 
sea-beach, 
Piled in confusion, lay the household goods of the peasants. 515 

All day long between the shore and the ships did the boats ply; 
All day long the wains came laboring down from the village. 
Late in the afternoon, when the sun was near to his setting, 
Echoed far o'er the fields came the roll of drums from the church- 
yard. 
Thither the women and children thronged: on a sudden the church- 
doors 
Opened, and forth came the guard, and, marching in gloomy 

procession. 
Followed the long-imprisoned but patient Acadian farmers. 
Even as pilgrims, who journey afar from their homes and their 

country, 
Sing as they go, and in singing forget they are weary and wayworn, 
So with songs on their lips the Acadian peasants descended 525 

Down from the church to the shore, amid their wives and their 

daughters. 
Foremost the young men came; and, raising together their voices. 
Sang with tremulous lips a chant of the Catholic Missions: 
'Sacred heart of the Saviour! O inexhaustible fountain! 
Fill our hearts this day with strength and submission and patience !" 530 
Then the old men, as they marched, and the women that stood by 

the wayside 
Joined in the sacred psalm; and the birds in the sunshine above 

them 
Mingled their notes therewith, like voices of spirits departed. 
Half-way down to the shore Evangeline waited in silence, 
Not overcome with grief, but strong in the hour of affliction; 535 

Calmly and sadly she waited, until the procession approached her 
And she beheld the face of Gabriel pale with emotion. 
Tears then filled her eyes, and, eagerly running to meet him. 
Clasped she his hands, and laid her head on his shoulder, and 

whispered, 
Gabriel, be of good cheer! for if we love one another, 540 

Nothing, in truth, can harm us, whatever mischances may happen!" 
Smiling she spake these words; then suddenly paused, for her 
father 



28 Longfellow's "evangeline" 

Saw she slowly advancing. Alas, how changed was his aspect! 
Gone was the glow from his cheek, and the fire from his eye, and 

his footstep 
Heavier seemed with the weight of the heavy heart in his bosom. 545 
But with a smile and a sigh she clasped his neck and embraced him, 
Speaking words of endearment where words of comfort availed not. 
Thus to the Gaspereau's mouth moved on that mournful procession. 

There disorder prevailed, and the tumult and stir of embarking. 
Busily plied the freighted boats; and in the confusion 550 

Wives were torn from their husbands, and mothers, too late, saw 

their children 
Left on the land, extending their arms with wildest entreaties. 
So unto separate ships were Basil and Gabriel carried, 
While in despair on the shore Evangeline stood with her father. 
Half the task was not done when the sun went down, and the 

twilight 555 

Deepened and darkened around; and in haste the refluent ocean 
Fled away from the shore, and left the line of the sand-beach 
Covered with waifs of the tide, with kelp and the slippery sea- 
weed. 
Farther back, in the midst of the household goods and the wagons. 
Like to a gypsy camp or a leaguer after a battle, 560 

All escape cut ofif by the sea and the sentinels near them. 
Lay encamped for the night the houseless Acadian farmers. 
Back to its nethermost caves retreated the bellowing ocean, 
Dragging adown the beach the rattling pebbles, and leaving 
Inland and far up the shore the stranded boats of the sailors. 565 

Then, as the night descended, the herds returned from their 

pastures; 
Sweet was the moist still air with the cdor of milk from their 

udders: 
Lowing they waited, and long, at the well-known bars of the 

farmyard. 
Waited and looked in vain for the voice and the hand of the milk- 
maid. 
Silence reigned in the streets; from the church no Angelus sounded, 570 
Rose no smoke from the roofs, and gleamed no lights from the 
windows. 
But on the shores meanwhile the evening fires had been kindled, 
Built of the drift-wood thrown on the sands from wrecks in the 
tempest. 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 29 

Round them shapes of gloom and sorrowful faces were gathered, 

Voices of women were heard, and of men, and the crying of children. 575 

Onward from fire to fire, as from hearth to hearth in his parish, 

Wandered the faithful priest, consoling and blessing and cheering. 

Like unto shipwrecked Paul on Melita's desolate sea-shore. 

Thus he approached the place where Evangeline sat with her 

father, 
And in the flickering light beheld the face of the old man, 580 

Haggard and hollow and wan, and without either thought or 

emotion. 
E'en as the face of a clock from which the hands have been taken. 
Vainly Evangeline strove with words and caresses to cheer him, 
Vainly offered him food; yet he moved not, he looked not, he 

spake not, 
But with a vacant stare ever gazed at the flickering fire-light. 585 

" Benedicite!'' murmured the priest, in tones of compassion. 
More he fain would have said; but his heart was full, and his 

accents 
Faltered and paused on his lips, as the feet of a child on a threshold. 
Hushed by the scene he beholds, and the awful presence of sorrow. 
Silently, therefore, he laid his hand on the head of the maiden, 590 

Raising his tearful eyes to the silent stars that above them 
Moved on their way, unperturbed by the wrongs and sorrows of 

mortals; 
Then sat he down at her side, and they wept together in silence. 
Suddenly rose from the south a light, as in autumn the blood- 
red 
Moon climbs the crystal walls of heaven, and o'er the horizon 595 

Titan-like stretches its hundred hands upon mountain and meadow. 
Seizing the rocks and the rivers, and piling huge shadows together. 
Broader and ever broader it gleamed on the roofs of the village. 
Gleamed on the sky and the sea, and the ships that lay in the road- 
stead. 
Columns of shining smoke uprose, and flashes of flame were 600 

Thrust through their folds and withdrawn, like the quivering hands 

of a martyr. 
Then as the wind seized the gleeds and the burning thatch, and, 

uplifting. 
Whirled them aloft through the air, at once from a hundred house- 
tops 
Started the sheeted smoke with flashes of flame intermingled. 



30 Longfellow's "evangeline" 

These things beheld in dismay the crowd on the shore and on 

shipboard: 605 

Speechless at first they stood, then cried aloud in their anguish, 
"We shall behold no more our homes in the village of Grand-Pre!" 
Loud on a sudden the cocks began to crow in the farm-yards. 
Thinking the day had dawned; and anon the lowing of cattle 
Came on the evening breeze, by the barking of dogs interrupted. 610 
Then rose a sound of dread, such as startles the sleeping encamp- 
ments, 
Far in the western prairies or forests that skirt the Nebraska, 
When the wild horses affrighted sweep by with the speed of the 

whirlwind, 
Or the loud bellowing herds of buffaloes rush to the river: 
Such was the sound that arose on the night, as the herds and the 

horses 615 

Broke through their folds and fences, and madly rushed o'er the 
meadows. 
Overwhelmed with the sight, yet speechless, the priest and 
the maiden 
Gazed on the scene of terror that reddened and widened before 

them; 
And as they turned at length to speak to their silent companion, 
Lo, from his seat he had fallen, and, stretched abroad on the sea- 
shore, 620 
Motionless lay his form, from which the soul had departed! 
Slowly the priest uplifted the lifeless head, and the maiden 
Knelt at her father's side, and wailed aloud in her terror; 
Then in a swoon she sank, and lay with her head on his bosom. 
Through the long night she lay in deep, oblivious slumber; 625 
And when she woke from the trance, she beheld a multitude near her; 
Faces of friends she beheld, that were mournfully gazing upon her. 
Pallid, with tearful eyes and looks of saddest compassion. 
Still the blaze of the burning village illumined the landscape. 
Reddened the sky overhead, and gleamed on the faces around her, 630 
And like the day of doom it seemed to her wavering senses. 
Then a familiar voice she heard, as it said to the people, 
"Let us bury him here by the sea: when a happier season 
Brings us again to our homes from the unknown land of our exile. 
Then shall his sacred dust be piously laid in the churchyard." 635 
Such were the words of the priest; and there in haste by the seaside, 
Having the glare of the burning village for funeral torches, 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 31 

But without bell or book, they buried the farmer of Grand-Pre. 
And as the voice of the priest repeated the service of sorrow, 
Lo, with a mournful sound, like the voice of a vast congregation, 640 
Solemnly answered the sea and mingled its roar with the dirges: 
'T was the returning tide, that afar from the waste of the ocean, 
With the first dawn of the day, came heaving and hurrying land- 
ward. 
Then recommenced once more the stir and noise of embarking; 
And with the ebb of the tide the ships sailed out of the harbor, 645 

Leaving behind them the dead on the shore and the village in ruins. 



Part the Second 
I 
Many a weary year had passed since the burning of Grand-Pre, 
When on the falling tide the freighted vessels departed, 
Bearing a nation, with all its household gods, into exile, 
Exile without an end and without an example in story. 
Far asunder, on separate coasts, the Acadians landed; 5 

Scattered were they, like flakes of snow when the wind from the 

northeast 
Strikes aslant through the fogs that darken the Banks of Newfound- 
land. 
Friendless, homeless, hopeless, they wandered from city to city, 
From the cold lakes of the North to sultry Southern savannas. 
From the bleak shores of the sea to the lands where the Father of 

Waters 10 

Seizes the hills in his hands and drags them down to the ocean, 
Deep in their sands to bury the scattered bones of the mammoth. 
Friends they sought and homes; and many, despairing, heartbroken. 
Asked of the earth but a grave, and no longer a friend nor a fireside: 
Written their history stands on tablets of stone in the churchyards. 15 
Long among them was seen a maiden who waited and wandered, 
Lowly and meek in spirit, and patiently suffering all things. 
Fair was she and young; but, alas, before her extended. 
Dreary and vast and silent, the desert of life, with its pathway 
Marked by the graves of those who had sorrowed and suffered 

before her, 20 

Passions long extinguished, and hopes long dead and abandoned, 
As the emigrant's way o'er the Western desert is marked by 
Camp-fires long consumed and bones that bleach in the sunshine. 



32 LONGFELLOW S EVANGELINE 

Something there was in her life incomplete, imperfect, unfinished; 

As if a morning of June, with all its music and sunshine, 25 

Suddenly paused in the sky, and, fading, slowly descended 

Into the east again, from whence it late had arisen. 

Sometimes she lingered in towns, till, urged by the fever within her, 

Urged by a restless longing, the hunger and thirst of the spirit. 

She would commence again her endless search and endeavor: 30 

Sometimes in churchyards strayed, and gazed on the crosses and 

tombstones; 
Sat by some nameless grave, and thought that perhaps in its bosom 
He was already at rest, and she longed to slumber beside him. 
Sometimes a rumor, a hearsay, an inarticulate whisper. 
Came with its airy hand to point and beckon her forward. 35 

Sometimes she spake with those who had seen her beloved and 

known him. 
But it was long ago, in some far-off place or forgotten. 
"Gabriel Lajeunesse!" they said; "O, yes! we have seen him. 
He was with Basil the blacksmith, and both have gone to the prairies; 
Coureurs-des-Bois are they, and famous hunters and trappers." 40 

"Gabriel Lajeunesse!" said others; "O, yes! we have seen him. 
He is a Voyageur in the lowlands of Louisiana." 
Then would they say, "Dear child, why dream and wait for him 

longer ? 
Are there not other youths as fair as Gabriel? others 
Who have hearts as tender and true, and spirits as loyal ? 45 

Here is Baptiste Leblanc, the notary's son, who has loved thee 
Many a tedious year; come, give him thy hand and be happy! 
Thou art too fair to be left to braid St. Catherine's tresses." 
Then would Evangeline answer, serenely but sadly, "I cannot! 
Whither my heart has gone, there follows my hand and not else- 
where; 50 
For when the heart goes before, like a lamp, and illumines the path- 
way, 
Many things are made clear, that else lie hidden in darkness." 
Thereupon the priest, her friend and father-confessor, 
Said with a smile, "O daughter, thy God thus speaketh within thee! 
Talk not of wasted affection: affection never was wasted; 55 
If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, returning 
Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment; 
That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain. 
Patience! accompHsh thy labor; accomplish thy work of affection! 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 33 

Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike. 60 

Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the heart is made godlike, 
Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered more worthy of 

heaven!" 
Cheered by the good man's words, Evangeline labored and waited. 
Still in her heart she heard the funeral dirge of the ocean. 
But with its sound there was mingled a voice that whispered, 

"Despair not!" 65 

Thus did that poor soul wander in want and cheerless discomfort, 
Bleeding, barefooted, over the shards and thorns of existence. 

Let me essay, O Muse, to follow the wanderer's footsteps — 
Not through each devious path, each changeful year of existence, 
But as a traveller follows a streamlet's course through the valley: 70 

Far from its margin at times, and seeing the gleam of its water 
Here and there, in some open space, and at intervals only; 
Then, drawing nearer its banks, through sylvan glooms that conceal it. 
Though he behold it not, he can hear its continuous murmur; 
Happy, at length, if he find the spot where it reaches an'outlet. 75 



It was the month of May. Far down the Beautiful River, 

Past the Ohio shore and past the mouth of the Wabash, 

Into the golden stream of the broad and swift Mississippi, 

Floated a cumbrous boat, that was rowed by Acadian boatmen. 

It was a band of exiles, a raft, as it were, from the shipwrecked 80 

Nation, scattered along the coast, now floating together. 

Bound by the bonds of a common belief and a common misfortune; 

Men and women and children, who, guided by hope or by hearsay. 

Sought for their kith and their kin among the few-acred farmers 

On the Acadian Coast, and the prairies of fair Opelousas. 85 

With them Evangeline went, and her guide the Father Felician. 

Onward o'er sunken sands, through a wilderness sombre with forests, 

Day after day they glided adown the turbulent river; 

Night after night, by their blazing fires, encamped on its borders. 

Now through rushing chutes, among green islands, where plume-like 90 

Cotton-trees nodded their shadowy crests, they swept with the 

current; 
Then emerged into broad lagoons, where silvery sand-bars 
Lay in the stream, and along the wimpling waves of their margin, 
Shining with snow-white plumes, large flocks of pelicans waded. 
Level the landscape grew; and along the shores of the river, 95 



34 Longfellow's "evangeline" 

Shaded by china-trees, in the midst of luxuriant gardens, 
Stood the houses of planters with negro-cabins and dove-cots. 
They were approaching the region where reigns perpetual summer, 
Where through the Golden Coast, and groves of orange and citron, 
Sweeps with majestic curve the river away to the eastward. loo 

They, too, swerved from their course; and, entering the Bayou of 

Plaquemine, 
Soon were lost in a maze of sluggish and devious waters, 
Which, like a network of steel, extended in every direction. 
Over their heads the towering and tenebrous boughs of the cypress 
Met in a dusky arch, and trailing mosses in mid-air 105 

Waved like banners that hang on the walls of ancient cathedrals. 
Deathlike the silence seemed, and unbroken save by the herons 
Home to their roosts in the cedar-trees returning at simset. 
Or by the owl as he greeted the moon with demoniac laughter. 
Lovely the moonlight was as it glanced and gleamed on the water, 1 10 
Gleamed on the columns of cypress and cedar sustaining the arches, 
Down through whose broken vaults it fell as through chinks in a ruin. 
Dreamlike and indistinct and strange were all things around them; 
And o'er their spirits there came a feeling of wonder and sadness — 
Strange forebodings of ill, unseen and that cannot be compassed. 115 

As, at the tramp of a horse's hoof on the turf of the prairies, 
Far in advance are closed the leaves of the shrinking mimosa, 
So, at the hoof-beats of fate, with sad forebodings of evil, 
Shrinks and closes the heart ere the stroke of doom has attained it. 
But Evangeline's heart was sustained by a vision, that faintly 120 

Floated before her eyes and beckoned her on through the moonlight : 
It was the thought of her brain that assumed the shape of a phantom — 
Through those shadowy aisles had Gabriel wandered before her, 
And every stroke of the oar now brought him nearer and nearer. 
Then, in his place at the prow of the boat, rose one of the 

oarsmen, 125 

And, as a signal sound, if others like them peradventure 
Sailed on those gloomy and midnight streams, blew a blast on his 

bugle. 
Wild through the dark colonnades and corridors leafy the blast rang. 
Breaking the seal of silence and giving tongues to the forest: 
Soundless above them the banners of moss just stirred to the music; 130 
Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance. 
Over the watery floor and beneath the reverberant branches. 
But not a voice replied; no answer came from the darkness; 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 



35 






rCl 


o 






;-| 


c 






o 

CI 


0^ 






OJ 


cd 






^ 


u 








(D 






c 


> 








^ 












M 




^ 




S 


-^ 


C 






o 


W) 




g 

^ 


^ 


C/2 

<1J 




> 


bCrCi 




W 




"^ 






r^ 


fl 




^4 


O 






o 


Oj 


1) 




c/) 


Ji^ 


hO 




Kl 


X) 




M 


rl 


O 




> 








«3: 




o 




M 




rC! 




H 


a 






Q 




Cj 




W 


^ 


^ 




H 


S 


c3 




< 


D 


> 




U 


J2 


>-i 




1 


^ 


Cj 




1—1 


m 


M 




Q 


-a 






< 


2 

u 






Q 


a 


o 




P3 


<X 




o, 


o 




(^ 


a 














+j 






W 


c 


>-i 




Q 


a 






w 


r^ 














C5 


^ 


*4H 




?^ 




o 




M 


(U 






H 


^ 


rn 




< 




U) 




M 




d 




,^ 


o 










(1) 




1— 1 








^ 


H 


T3 




<u 




(U 








^ 




■!-> 


t/j 








■-D 


^ 




0) 


(J 


>. 




e 










en 


q3 








Ji 






<u 


'O 



36 

And when the echoes had ceased, like a sense of pain was the silence. 
Then Evangeline slept; but the boatmen rowed through the mid- 
night, 135 
Silent at times, then singing familiar Canadian boat-songs, 
Such as they sang of old on their own Acadian rivers. 
While through the night were heard the mysterious sounds of the 

desert. 
Far off, indistinct, as of wave or wind in the forest. 
Mixed with the whoop of the crane and the roar of the grim alligator. 140 
Thus ere another noon they emerged from the shades; and 
before them 
Lay, in the golden sun, the lakes of the Atchafalaya. 
Water-lihes in myriads rocked on the slight undulations 
Made by the passing oars, and, resplendent in beauty, the lotus 
Lifted her golden crown above the heads of the boatmen. 145 

Faint was the air with the odorous breath of magnolia blossoms, 
And with the heat of noon; and numberless sylvan islands, 
Fragrant and thickly embowered with blossoming hedges of roses, 
Near to whose shores they glided along, invited to slumber. 
Soon by the fairest of these their weary oars were suspended: 150 

Under the boughs of Wachita willows that grew by the margin. 
Safely their boat was moored; and, scattered about on the green- 
sward, 
Tired with their midnight toil, the weary travellers slumbered. 
Over them vast and high extended the cope of a cedar: 
Swinging from its great arms, the trumpet-flower and the grape- 
vine 155 
Hung their ladder of ropes aloft hke the ladder of Jacob, 
On whose pendulous stairs the angels ascending, descending. 
Were the swift humming-birds, that flitted from blossom to blossom. 
Such was the vision Evangeline saw as she slumbered beneath it; 
Filled was her heart with love, and the dawn of an opening heaven 160 
Lighted her soul in sleep with the glory of regions celestial. 
Nearer and ever nearer, among the numberless islands, 
Darted a hght, swift boat, that sped away o'er the water. 
Urged on its course by the sinewy arms of hunters and trappers; 
Northward its prow was turned, to the land of the bison and beaver. 165 
At the helm sat a youth, with countenance thoughtful and careworn: 
Dark and neglected locks overshadowed his brow, and a sadness 
Somewhat beyond his years on his face was legibly written. 
Gabriel was it, who, weary with waiting, unhappy and restle§§, 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 37 

Sought in the Western wilds oblivion of self and of sorrow. 170 

Swiftly they glided along, close under the lee of the island, 

But by the opposite bank and behind a screen of palmettos, 

So that they saw not the boat where it lay concealed in the willows, 

All undisturbed by the dash of their oars, and unseen, were the 

sleepers: 
Angel of God was there none to awaken the slumbering maiden. 175 

Swiftly they glided away, like the shade of a cloud on the prairie. 
After the sound of their oars on the tholes had died in the distance, 
As from a magic trance the sleepers awoke; and the maiden 
Said with a sigh to the friendly priest, "O Father Felician, 
Something says in my heart that near me Gabriel wanders. 180 

Is it a foohsh dream, an idle and vague superstition ? 
Or has an angel passed, and revealed the truth to my spirit ?" 
Then, with a blush, she added, "Alas for my credulous fancy! 
Unto ears like thine such words as these have no meaning." 
But made answer the reverend man, and he smiled as he answered, 185 
' Daughter, thy words are not idle, nor are they to me without meaning. 
Feeling is deep and still; and the word that floats on the surface 
Is as the tossing buoy that betrays where the anchor is hidden: 
Therefore trust to thy heart and to what the world calls illusions. 
Gabriel truly is near thee; for not far away to the southward, 190 

On the banks of the Teche, are the towns of St. Maur and St. Martin. 
There the long-wandering bride shall be given again to her bride- 
groom. 
There the long-absent pastor regain his flock and his sheepfold. 
Beautiful is the land, with its prairies and forests of fruit-trees; 
Under the feet a garden of flowers, and the bluest of heavens 195 

Bending above and resting its dome on the walls of the forest. 
They who dwell there have named it the Eden of Louisiana." 

With these words of cheer they arose and continued their journey. 
Softly the evening came: the sun from the western horizon 
Like a magician extended his golden wand o'er the landscape; 200 

Twinkling vapors arose; and sky and water and forest 
Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and mingled together; 
Hanging between two skies, a cloud with edges of silver. 
Floated the boat, with its dripping oars, on the motionless water. 
Filled was Evangeline's heart with inexpressible sweetness: 205 

Touched by the magic spell, the sacred fountains of feeling 
Glowed with the light of love, as the skies and waters around her. 
Then from a neighboring thicket the mocking-bird, wildest of singers. 



38 Longfellow's 

Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung o'er the water, 

Shook from his little throat such floods of delirious music 210 

That the whole air and the woods and the waves seemed silent to 

listen: 
Plaintive at first were the tones and sad; then, soaring to madness, 
Seemed they to follow or guide the revel of frenzied Bacchantes; 
Single notes were then heard, in sorrowful, low lamentation; 
TiU, having gathered them all, he flung them abroad in derision, 215 
As when, after a storm, a gust of wind through the tree-tops 
Shakes down the rattling rain in a crystal shower on the branches. 
With such a prelude as this, and hearts that throbbed with emotion. 
Slowly they entered the Teche, where it flows through the green 

Opelousas, 
And through the amber air, above the crest of the woodland, 220 

Saw the column of smoke that arose from a neighboring dwelling: 
Sounds of a horn they heard, and the distant lowing of cattle. 



in 

Near to the bank of the river, o'ershadowed by oaks, from whose 

branches 
Garlands of Spanish moss and of mystic mistletoe flaunted, 
Such as the Druids cut down with golden hatchets at Yule-tide, 225 

Stood, secluded and still, the house of the herdsman. A garden 
Girded it round about with a belt of luxuriant blossoms, 
Filling the air with fragrance. The house itself was of timbers 
Hewn from the cypress-tree, and carefully fitted together. 
Large and low was the roof; and on slender columns supported, 230 

Rose-wreathed, vine-encircled, a broad and spacious veranda, 
Haunt of the humming-bird and the bee, extended around it. 
At each end of the house, amid the flowers of the garden, 
Stationed the dove-cots were, as love's perpetual symbol, 
Scenes of endless wooing and endless contentions of rivals. 235 

Silence reigned o'er the place. The line of shadow and sunshine 
Ran near the tops of the trees; but the house itself was in shadow, 
And from its chimney-top, ascending and slowly expanding 
Into the evening air, a thin blue column of smoke rose. 
In the rear of the house, from the garden gate, ran a pathway 240 

Through the great groves of oak to the skirts of the limitless prairie. 
Into whose sea of flowers the sun was slowly descending. 
Full in his track of light, like ships with shadowy canvas 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 39 

Hanging loose from their spars in a motionless calm in the tropics, 
Stood a cluster of trees, with tangled cordage of grape-vines. 245 

Just where the woodlands met the flowery surf of the prairie, 
Mounted upon his horse, with Spanish saddle and stirrups. 
Sat a herdsman, arrayed in gaiters and doublet of deerskin. 
Broad and brown was the face that from under the Spanish sombrero 
Gazed on the peaceful scene, with the lordly look of its master. 250 

Round about him were numberless herds of kine, that were grazing 
Quietly in the meadows, and breathing the vapory freshness 
That uprose from the river and spread itself over the landscape. 
Slowly lifting the horn that hung at his side, and expanding 
Fully his broad, deep chest, he blew a blast, that resounded 255 

Wildly and sweet and far, through the still damp air of the evening. 
Suddenly out of the grass the long white horns of the cattle 
Rose like flakes of foam on the adverse currents of ocean: 
Silent a moment they gazed, then bellowing rushed o'er the prairie. 
And the whole mass became a cloud, a shade in the distance. 260 

Then, as the herdsman turned to the house, through the gate of the 

garden 
Saw he the forms of the priest and the maiden advancing to meet him. 
Suddenly down from his horse he sprang in amazement, and forward 
Rushed with extended arms and exclamations of wonder; 
When they beheld his face, they recognized Basil the blacksmith. 265 
Hearty his welcome was, as he led his guests to the garden. 
There, in an arbor of roses, with endless question and answer 
Gave they vent to their hearts, and renewed their friendly embraces, 
Laughing and weeping by turns, or sitting silent and thoughtful — 
Thoughtful, for Gabriel came not: and now dark doubts and 

misgivings 270 

Stole o'er the maiden's heart; and Basil, somewhat embarrassed, 
Broke the silence and said, "If you came by the Atchafalaya, 
How have you nowhere encountered my Gabriel's boat on the 

bayous ?" 
Over Evangeline's face at the words of Basil a shade passed; 
Tears came into her eyes, and she said, with a tremulous accent, 275 

"Gone? is Gabriel gone?" and, concealing her face on his shoulder. 
All her o'erburdened heart gave way, and she wept and lamented. 
Then the good Basil said, — and his voice grew blithe as he said it, — 
"Be of good cheer, my child; it is only to-day he departed. 
Foolish boy! he has left me alone with my herds and my horses. 280 
Moody and restless grown, and tried and troubled, his spirit 



40 Longfellow's "evangeline" 

Could no longer endure the calm of this quiet existence. 
Thinking ever of thee, uncertain and sorrowful ever, 
Ever silent, or speaking only of thee and his troubles, 
He at length had become so tedious to men and to maidens, 285 

Tedious even to me, that at length I bethought me, and sent him 
Unto the town of Adayes to trade for mules with the Spaniards. 
Thence he will follow the Indian trails to the Ozark Mountains, 
Hunting for furs in the forests, on rivers trapping the beaver. 
Therefore be of good cheer: we will follow the fugitive lover; 290 

He is not far on his way, and the Fates and the streams are against 

him. 
Up and away to-morrow, and through the red dew of the morning 
We will follow him fast, and bring him back to his prison." 

Then glad voices were heard, and up from the banks of the river, 
Borne aloft on his comrades' arms, came Michael the fiddler. 295 

Long under Basil's roof had he lived like a god on Olympus, 
Having no other care than dispensing music to mortals: 
Far renowned was he for his silver locks and his fiddle. 
'Long live Michael," they cried, "our brave Acadian minstrel!" 
As they bore him aloft in triumphal procession; and straightway 300 
Father Felician advanced with Evangeline, greeting the old man 
Kindly and oft, and recalling the past, while Basil, enraptured, 
Hailed with hilarious joy his old companions and gossips, 
Laughing loud and long, and embracing mothers and daughters. 
Much they marvelled to see the wealth of the ci-devant black- 
smith, 305 
All his domains and his herds, and his patriarchal demeanor; 
Much they marvelled to hear his tales of the soil and the climate, 
And of the prairies, whose numberless herds were his who would 

take them; 
Each one thought in his heart that he, too, would go and do likewise. 
Thus they ascended the steps, and, crossing the breezy veranda, 310 

Entered the hall of the house, where already the supper of Basil 
Waited his late return; and they rested and feasted together. 

Over the joyous feast the sudden darkness descended. 
All was silent without, and, illuming the landscape with silver, 
Fair rose the dewy moon and the myriad stars; but within doors, 315 
Brighter than these, shone the faces of friends in the glimmering 

lamplight. 
Then from his station aloft, at the head of the table, the herdsman 
Poured forth his heart and his wine together in endless profusion. 



A STU]^ AND INTERPRETATION 41 

Lighting his pipe, that was filled with sweet Natchitoches tobacco, 
Thus he spake to his guests, who listened, and smiled as they 

listened: 320 

'Welcome once more, my friends, who long have been friendless and 

homeless. 
Welcome once more to a home, that is better perchance than the old 

one! 
Here no hungry winter congeals our blood like the rivers; 
Here no stony ground provokes the wrath of the farmer — 
Smoothly the ploughshare runs through the soil as a keel through 

the water; 325 

All the year round the orange-groves are in blossom, and grass grows 
More in a single night than a whole Canadian summer. 
Here, too, numberless herds run wild and unclaimed in the prairies; 
Here, too, lands may be had for the asking, and forests of timber 
With a few blows of the axe are hewn and framed into houses. 330 

After your houses are built, and your fields are yellow with harvests. 
No King George of England shall drive you away from your home- 
steads. 
Burning your dwellings and barns, and stealing your farms and your 

cattle." 
Speaking these words, he blew a wrathful cloud from his nostrils. 
While his huge, brown hand came thundering down on the table, 335 
So that the guests all started; and Father Felician, astounded, 
Suddenly paused, with a pinch of snuff half-way to his nostrils. 
But the brave Basil resumed, and his words were milder and gayer: 
'Only beware of the fever, my friends, beware of the fever! 
For it is not like that of our cold Acadian climate, 340 

Cured by wearing a spider hung round one's neck in a nutshell!" 
Then there were voices heard at the door, and footsteps approaching 
Sounded upon the stairs and the floor of the breezy veranda: 
It was the neighboring Creoles and small Acadian planters. 
Who had been summoned all to the house of Basil the herdsman. 345 
Merry the meeting was of ancient comrades and neighbors: 
Friend clasped friend in his arms; and they who before were as 

strangers, 
Meeting in exile, became straightway as friends to each other. 
Drawn by the gentle bond of a common country together. 
But in the neighboring hall a strain of music, proceeding 350 

From the accordant strings of Michael's melodious fiddle, 
Broke up all further speech: away, like children delighted. 



42 Longfellow's "evangeltne" 

All things forgotten beside, they gave themselves to the maddening 
Whirl of the dizzy dance, as it swept and swayed to the music, 
Dreamlike, with beaming eyes and the rush of fluttering garments. 355 
Meanwhile, apart, at the head of the hall, the priest and the 
herdsman 
Sat, conversing together of past and present and future; 
While Evangeline stood like one entranced, for within her 
Olden memories rose, and loud in the midst of the music 
Heard she the soimd of the sea, and an irrepressible sadness 360 

Came o'er her heart, and unseen she stole forth into the garden. 
Beautiful was the night: behind the black wall of the forest, 
Tipping its summit with silver, arose the moon; on the river 
Fell here and there through the branches a tremulous gleam of the 

moonlight, 
Like the sweet thoughts of love on a darkened and devious spirit; 365 
Nearer and round about her, the manifold flowers of the garden 
Poured out their souls in odors, that were their prayers and con- 
fessions 
Unto the night, as it went its way like a silent Carthusian. 
Fuller of fragrance than they, and as heavy with shadows and night- 
dews, 
Hung the heart of the maiden. The calm and the magical moon- 
light 370 
Seemed to inundate her soul with indefinable longings, 
As, through the garden gate, and beneath the shade of the oak-trees. 
Passed she along the path to the edge of the measureless prairie. 
Silent it lay, with a silvery haze upon it, and fire-flies 
Gleaming and floating away in mingled and infinite numbers. 375 
Over her head the stars, the thoughts of God in the heavens. 
Shone on the eyes of man, who had ceased to marvel and worship. 
Save when a blazing comet was seen on the walls of that temple. 
As if a hand had appeared and written upon them, "Upharsin." 
And the soul of the maiden, between the stars and the fire-flies, 380 
Wandered alone, and she cried, "O Gabriel! O my beloved! 
Art thou so near imto me, and yet I cannot behold thee ? 
Art thou so near unto me, and yet thy voice does not reach me ? 
Ah, how often thy feet have trod this path to the prairie! 
Ah, how often thine eyes have looked on the woodlands around 

me! 385 

Ah, how often beneath this oak, returning from labor, 
Thou hast lain down to rest and to dream of me in thy slumbers! 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 



43 



390 



When shall these eyes behold, these arms be folded about thee?" 
Loud and sudden and near the note of a whippoorwill sounded 
Like a flute in the woods; and anon, through the neighboring 

thickets, 
Farther and farther away it floated and dropped into silence. 
''Patience!" whispered the oaks from oracular caverns of darkness; 
And from the moonlit meadow a sigh responded, "To-morrow!" 

Bright rose the sun next day; and all the flowers of the garden 
Bathed his shining feet with their tears, and anointed his tresses 395 
With the delicious balm that they bore in their vases of crystal. 
"Farewell!" said the priest, as he stood at the shadowy threshold; 
" See that you bring us the Prodigal Son from his fasting and famine, 
And, too, the Foolish Virgin, who slept when the bridegroom was 
coming." 
"Farewell!" answered the maiden, and, smiling, with Basil descended 400 
Down to the river's brink, where the boatmen already were waiting. 
Thus beginning their journey with morning and sunshine and 

gladness. 
Swiftly they followed the flight of him who was speeding before them. 
Blown by the blast of fate like a dead leaf over the desert. 
Not that day, nor the next, nor yet the day that succeeded, 405 

Found they trace of his course, in lake or forest or river. 
Nor after many days had they found him; but vague and uncertain 
Rumors alone were their guides through a wild and desolate country, 
Till at the little inn of the Spanish town of Adayes, 
Weary and worn, they alighted, and learned from the garrulous 

landlord 410 

That on the day before, with horses and guides and companions, 
Gabriel left the village and took the road of the prairies. 



Far in the West there lies a desert land, where the mountains 
Lift, through perpetual snows, their lofty and luminous summits. 
Down from their jagged, deep ravines, where the gorge, like a 

gateway, 415 

Opens a passage rude to the wheels of the emigrant's wagon, 
Westward the Oregon flows, and the Walleway and Owyhee. 
Eastward, with devious course, among the Wind-river Mountains, 
Through the Sweet- water Valley precipitate leaps the Nebraska; 
And to the south, from Fontaine-qui-bout and the Spanish sierras, 420 



44 Longfellow's 

Fretted with sands and rocks, and swept by the wind of the desert, 

Numberless torrents with ceaseless sound descend to the ocean 

Like the great chords of a harp, in loud and solemn vibrations. 

Spreading between these streams are the wondrous, beautiful prairies, 

Billowy bays of grass ever rolling in shadow and sunshine, 425 

Bright with luxuriant clusters of roses and purple amorphas. 

Over them wandered the buffalo herds and the elk and the roebuck; 

Over them wandered the wolves and herds of riderless horses; 

Fires that blast and blight, and winds that are weary with travel; 

Over them wander the scattered tribes of Ishmael's children, 430 

Staining the desert with blood; and above their terrible war-trails 

Circles and sails aloft, on pinions majestic, the vulture. 

Like the implacable soul of a chieftain slaughtered in battle, 

By invisible stairs ascending and scaling the heavens. 

Here and there rise smokes from the camps of these savage 

marauders; 435 

Here and there rise groves from the margins of swift-running rivers; 
And the grim, taciturn bear, the anchorite monk of the desert, 
Climbs down their dark ravines to dig for roots by the brookside; 
And over all is the sky, the clear and crystalline heaven, 
Like the protecting hand of God inverted above them. 440 

Into this wonderful land, at the base of the Ozark Mountains, 
Gabriel far had entered, with hunters and trappers behind him. 
Day after day, with their Indian guides, the maiden and Basil 
Followed his flying steps, and thought each day to o'ertake him. 
Sometimes they saw, or thought they saw, the smoke of his camp- 
fire 445 
Rise in the morning air from the distant plain; but at nightfall. 
When they had reached the place, they found only embers and ashes. 
And, though their hearts were sad at times and their bodies were 

weary, 
Hope still guided them on, as the magic P'ata Morgana 
Showed them her lakes of light, that retreated and vanished before 

them. 450 

Once, as they sat by their evening fire, there silently entered 
Into the little camp an Indian woman, whose features 
Wore deep traces of sorrow and patience as great as her sorrow. 
She was a Shawnee woman returning home to her people, 
From the far-off hunting-grounds of the cruel Camanches, 455 

Where her Canadian husband, a Coureur-des-Bois, had been mur- 
dered. 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 



45 



Touched were their hearts at her story, and warmest and friendliest 

welcome 
Gave they, with words of cheer; and she sat and feasted among them 
On the buffalo-meat and the venison cooked on the embers. 
But when their meal was done, and Basil and all his companions, 460 
Worn with the long day's march and the chase of the deer and the 

bison. 
Stretched themselves on the ground, and slept where the quivering 

firelight 
Flashed on their swarthy cheeks and their forms wrapped up in their 

blankets. 
Then at the door of Evangeline's tent she sat and repeated 
Slowly, with soft, low voice and the charm of her Indian accent, 465 

All the tale of her love, with its pleasures and pains and reverses. 
Much Evangeline wept at the tale, and to know that another 
Hapless heart like her own had loved and had been disappointed. 
Moved to the depths of her soul by pity and woman's compassion, 
Yet in her sorrow pleased that one who had suffered was near her, 470 
She in turn related her love and all its disasters. 
Mute with wonder the Shawnee sat, and when she had ended 
Still was mute; but at length, as if a mysterious horror 
Passed through her brain, she spake, and repeated the tale of the 

Mowis — 
Mowis, the bridegroom of snow, who won and wedded a maiden, 475 
But, when the morning came, arose and passed from the wigwam, 
Fading and melting away and dissolving into the sunshine, 
Till she beheld him no more, though she followed far into the forest. 
Then, in those sweet, low tones, that seemed like a weird incantation. 
Told she the tale of the fair Lilinau, who was wooed by a phantom, 480 
That, through the pines o'er her father's lodge, in the hush of the 

twilight, 
Breathed like the evening wind, and whispered love to the maiden. 
Till she followed his green and waving plume through the forest. 
And never more returned nor was seen again by her people. 
Silent with wonder and strange surprise, Evangeline listened 485 

To the soft flow of her magical words, till the region around her 
Seemed like enchanted ground, and her swarthy guest the en- 
chantress. 
Slowly over the tops of the Ozark Mountains the moon rose, 
Lighting the little tent, and with a mysterious splendor 
Touching the sombre leaves and embracing and filling the woodland. 490 



46 

With a delicious sound the brook rushed by, and the branches 

Swayed and sighed overhead in scarcely audible whispers. 

Filled with the thoughts of love was Evangeline's heart, but a secret, 

Subtile sense crept in of pain and indefinite terror. 

As the cold, poisonous snake creeps into the nest of the swallow. 495 

It was no earthly fear: a breath from the region of spirits 

Seemed to float in the air of night; and she felt for a moment 

That, like the Indian maid, she too was pursuing a phantom. 

With this thought she slept, and the fear and the phantom had 

vanished. 
Early upon the morrow the march was resumed; and the 

Shawnee 500 

Said, as they journeyed along, "On the western slope of these 

mountains 
Dwells in his little village the Black Robe chief of the Mission. 
Much he teaches the people, and tells them of Mary and Jesus: 
Loud laugh their hearts with joy, and weep with pain, as they hear 

him." 
Then, with a sudden and secret emotion, Evangeline answered, 505 

Tet us go to the Mission, for there good tidings await us!" 
Thither they turned their steeds; and behind a spur of the mountains, 
Just as the sun went down, they heard a murmur of voices, 
And in a meadow green and broad, by the bank of a river. 
Saw the tents of the Christians, the tents of the Jesuit Mission. 510 

Under a towering oak, that stood in the midst of the village. 
Knelt the Black Robe chief with his children. A crucifix fastened 
High on the trunk of the tree, and overshadowed by grape-vines. 
Looked with its agonized face on the multitude kneeling beneath it. 
This was their rural chapel: aloft, through the intricate arches 515 

Of its aerial roof, arose the chant of their vespers. 
Mingling its notes with the soft susurrus and sighs of the branches. 
Silent, with heads uncovered, the travellers, nearer approaching, 
Knelt on the swarded floor and joined in the evening devotions. 
But when the service was done, and the benediction had fallen 520 

Forth from the hands of the pritst, like seed from the hands of the 

sower, 
Slowly the reverend man advanced to the strangers, and bade them 
Welcome; and when they replied, he smiled with benignant 

expression, 
Hearing the homelike sounds of his mother- tongue in the forest, 
And with words of kindness conducted them into his wigwam. 525 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 



47 



535 



540 



There upon mats and skins they reposed, and on cakes of the 

maize-ear 
Feasted, and slaked their thirst from the water-gourd of the teacher. 
Soon was their story told; and the priest with solemnity answered, 
"Not six suns have risen and set since Gabriel, seated 
On this mat by my side, where now the maiden reposes, 530 

Told me this same sad tale; then arose and continued his journey!" 
Soft was the voice of the priest, and he spake with an accent of 

kindness; 
But on Evangeline's heart fell his words as in winter the snowflakes 
Fall into some lone nest from which the birds have departed. 
"Far to the north he has gone," continued the priest; "but in 
autumn, 
When the chase is done, will return again to the Mission." 
Then Evangeline said, and her voice was meek and submissive, 
"Let me remain with thee, for my soul is sad and afflicted." 
So seemed it wise and well unto all; and betimes on the morrow, 
Mounting his Mexican steed, with his Indian guides and compan- 
ions 
Homeward Basil returned, and Evangeline stayed at the Mission. 

Slowly, slowly, slowly the days succeeded each other — 
Days and weeks and months; and the fields of maize that were 

springing 
Green from the ground when a stranger she came, now waving 

above her. 
Lifted their slender shafts, with leaves interlacing and forming 545 

Cloisters for mendicant crows and granaries pillaged by squirrels. 
Then in the golden weather the maize was husked; and the maidens 
Blushed at each blood-red ear, for that betokened a lover. 
But at the crooked laughed, and called it a thief in the corn-field. 
Even the blood-red ear to Evangeline brought not her lover. 550 

"Patience!" the priest would say; "have faith, and thy prayer will 
be answered! 
Look at this delicate plant that lifts its head from the meadow; 
See how its leaves are turned to the north, as true as the magnet: 
This is the compass-flower, that the finger of God has planted 
Here in the houseless wild, to direct the traveller's journey 555 

Over the sea-like, pathless, limitless waste of the desert. 
Such in the soul of man is faith. The blossoms of passion. 
Gay and luxuriant flowers, are brighter and fuller of fragrance. 
But they beguile us and lead us astray, and their odor is deadly. 



48 Longfellow's 

Only this humble plant can guide us here, and hereafter 560 

Crown us with asphodel flowers, that are wet with the dews of 

nepenthe." 
So came the autumn, and passed, and the winter; yet Gabriel 

came not. 
Blossomed the opening spring, and the notes of the robin and 

blue-bird 
Sounded sweet upon wold and in wood; yet Gabriel came not. 
But on the breath of the summer winds a rumor was wafted, «;6s 

Sweeter than song of bird, or hue or odor of blossom: 
Far to the north and east, it said, in the Michigan forests, 
Gabriel had his lodge by the banks of the Saginaw River. 
And, with retiuming guides, that sought the lakes of St. Lawrence, 
Saying a sad farewell, Evangeline went from the Mission. 570 

When over weary ways, by long and perilous marches. 
She had attained at length the depths of the Michigan forests. 
Found she the hunter's lodge deserted and fallen to ruin! 

Thus did the long sad years glide on, and in seasons and places 
Divers and distant far was seen the wandering maiden: 575 

Now in the Tents of Grace of the meek Moravian Missions, 
Now in the noisy camps and the battle-fields of the army, 
Now in secluded hamlets, in towns and populous cities. 
Like a phantom she came, and passed away unremembered. 
Fair was she and young, when in hope began the long journey; 580 

Faded was she and old, when in disappointment it ended. 
Each succeeding year stole something away from her beauty. 
Leaving behind it, broader and deeper, the gloom and the shadow. 
Then there appeared and spread faint streaks of gray o'er her 

forehead. 
Dawn of another life, that broke o'er her earthly horizon, 585 

As in the eastern sky the first faint streaks of the morning. 



In that delightful land which is washed by the Delaware's waters, 

Guarding in sylvan shades the name of Penn the apostle. 

Stands on the banks of its beautiful stream the city he founded. 

There all the air is balm, and the peach is the emblem of beauty; 590 

And the streets still re-echo the names of the trees of the forest. 

As if they fain would appease the Dryads whose haunts they 

molested. 
There from the troubled sea had Evangeline landed, an exile, 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 49 

Finding among the children of Penn a home and a country. 

There old Rene Leblanc had died; and when he departed, 595 

Saw at his side only one of all his hundred descendants. 

Something at least there was in the friendly streets of the city, 

Something that spake to her heart and made her no longer a stranger; 

And her ear was pleased with the " Thee " and " Thou " of the Quakers, 

For it recalled the past, the old Acadian country, 600 

Where all men were equal and all were brothers and sisters. 

So, when the fruitless search, the disappointed endeavor, 

Ended, to recommence no more upon earth, uncomplaining, 

Thither, as leaves to the light, were turned her thoughts and her 

footsteps. 
As from a mountain's top the rainy mists of the morning 601; 

Roll away, and afar we behold the landscape below us, 
Sun-illumined, with shining rivers and cities and hamlets, 
So fell the mists from her mind, and she saw the world far below her 
Dark no longer but all illumined with love, and the pathway 
Which she had climbed so far lying smooth and fair in the distance. 610 
Gabriel was not forgotten. Within her heart was his image, 
Clothed in the beauty of love and youth, as last she beheld him, 
Only more beautiful made by his deathlike silence and absence: 
Into her thoughts of him time entered not, for it was not; 
Over him years had no power; he was not changed but transfigured; 615 
He had become to her heart as one who is dead and not absent. 
Patience and abnegation of self and devotion to others. 
This was the lesson a life of trial and sorrow had taught her. 
So was her love diffused, but, like to some odorous spices, 
Suffered no waste nor loss though filling the air with aroma. 620 

Other hope had she none, nor wish in life, but to follow 
Meekly, with reverent steps, the sacred feet of her Saviour. 
Thus many years she lived as a Sister of Mercy, frequenting 
Lonely and wretched roofs in the crowded lanes of the city, 
Where distress and want concealed themselves from the sunlight, 625 
Where disease and sorrow in garrets languished neglected. 
Night after night, when the world was asleep, as the watchman 

repeated 
Loud, through the gusty streets, that all was well in the city, 
High at some lonely window he saw the light of her taper. 
Day after day, in the gray of the dawn, as slow through the suburbs 63c 
Plodded the German farmer, with flowers and fruits for the market, 
Met he that meek, pale face, returning home from its watchings. 



so 

Then it came to pass that a pestilence fell on the city, 
Presaged by wondrous signs, and mostly by flocks of wild pigeons 
Darkening the sun in their flight, with naught in their craws but an 

acorn. 635 

And, as the tides of the sea arise in the month of September, 
Flooding some silver stream till it spreads to a lake in the meadow. 
So death flooded life, and, o'erflowing its natural margin. 
Spread to a brackish lake the silver stream of existence. 
Wealth had no power to bribe, nor beauty to charm, the oppressor, 640 
But all perished alike beneath the scourge of his anger; 
Only, alas, the poor, who had neither friends nor attendants, 
Crept away to die in the almshouse, home of the homeless. 
Then in the suburbs it stood, in the midst of meadows and wood- 
lands; 
Now the city surrounds it; but still, with its gateway and wicket 645 
Meek, in the midst of splendor, its humble walls seem to echo 
Softly the words of the Lord, "The poor ye always have with you." 
Thither, by night and by day, came the Sister of Mercy. The dying 
Looked up into her face, and thought, indeed, to behold there 
Gleams of celestial light encircle her forehead with splendor, 650 

Such as the artist paints o'er the brows of saints and apostles, 
Or such as hangs by night o'er a city seen at a distance: 
Unto their eyes it seemed the lamps of the city celestial, 
Into whose shining gates ere long their spirits would enter. • 

Thus, on a Sabbath morn, through the streets deserted and 

silent, 655 

Wending her quiet way, she entered the door of the almshouse. 
Sweet on the summer air was the odor of flowers in the garden; 
And she paused on her way to gather the fairest among them. 
That the dying once more might rejoice in their fragrance and 

beauty. 
Then, as she mounted the stairs to the corridors, cooled by the east 

wind, 660 

Distant and soft on her ear fell the chimes from the belfry of Christ 

Church, 
While, intermingled with these, across the meadows were wafted 
Sounds of psalms that were sung by the Swedes in their church at 

Wicaco. 
Soft as descending wings fell the calm of the hour on her spirit; 
Something within her said, "At length thy trials are ended"; 665 

And with light in her looks she entered the chambers of sickness. 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 



SI 



Noiselessly moved about the assiduous, careful attendants, 

Moistening the feverish lip and the aching brow, and in silence 

Closing the sightless eyes of the dead, and concealing their faces. 

Where on their pallets they lay, like drifts of snow by the roadside. 670 

Many a languid head, upraised as Evangeline entered. 

Turned on its pillow of pain to gaze while she passed, for her presence 

Fell on their hearts like a ray of the sun on the walls of a prison. 

And, as she looked around, she saw how Death, the consoler, 

Laying his hand upon many a heart, had healed it forever. 675 

Many familiar forms had disappeared in the night-time; 

Vacant their places were, or filled already by strangers. 

Suddenly, as if arrested by fear or a feeling of wonder. 
Still she stood, with her colorless lips apart, while a shudder 
Ran through her frame, and forgotten the flowerets dropped from 

her fingers, 680 

And from her eyes and cheeks the light and bloom of the morning. 
Then there escaped from her lips a cry of such terrible anguish 
That the dying heard it, and started up from their pillows. 
On the pallet before her was stretched the form of an old man. 
Long and thin and gray were the locks that shaded his temples; 685 

But, as he lay in the morning light, his face for a moment 
Seemed to assume once more the forms of its earlier manhood — 
So are wont to be changed the faces of those who are dying. 
Hot and red on his lips still burned the flush of the fever. 
As if life, like the Hebrew, with blood had besprinkled its portals, 690 
That the Angel of Death might see the sign and pass over. 
Motionless, senseless, dying, he lay, and his spirit exhausted 
Seemed to be sinking down through infinite depths in the darkness. 
Darkness of slumber and death, forever sinking and sinking. 
Then through those realms of shade, in multiplied reverberations, 695 
Heard he that cry of pain; and through the hush that succeeded 
Whispered a gentle voice, in accents tender and saint-like, 
'Gabriel! O my beloved!" and died away into silence. 
Then he beheld, in a dream, once more the home of his childhood; 
Green Acadian meadows, with sylvan rivers among them, 700 

Village and mountain and woodlands; and, walking under their 

shadow. 
As in the days of her youth, Evangeline rose in his vision. 
Tears came into his eyes; and, as slowly he lifted his eyelids. 
Vanished the vision away, but Evangeline knelt by his bedside. 
Vainly he strove to whisper her name, for the accents unuttered 705 



52 

Died on his lips, and their motion revealed what his tongue would 

have spoken. 
Vainly he strove to rise; and Evangeline, kneeling beside him. 
Kissed his dying lips, and laid his head on her bosom. 
Sweet was the light of his eyes; but it suddenly sank into darkness, 
As when a lamp is blown out by a gust of wind at a casement. 710 

All was ended now, the hope and the fear and the sorrow, 
All the aching of heart, the restless, unsatisfied longing. 
All the dull, deep pain, and constant anguish of patience! 
And, as she pressed once more the lifeless head to her bosom. 
Meekly she bowed her own, and murmured, "Father, I thank 

thee!" 71S 

Conclusion 

Still stands the forest primeval; but far away from its shadow. 

Side by side in their nameless graves, the lovers are sleeping. 

Under the humble walls of the little Catholic churchyard. 

In the heart of the city, they lie unknown and unnoticed. 

Daily the tides of life go ebbing and flowing beside them: 720 

Thousands of throbbing hearts, where theirs are at rest and forever; 

Thousands of aching brains, where theirs no longer are busy; 

Thousands of toiling hands, where theirs have ceased from their 

labors; 
Thousands of weary feet, where theirs have completed their journey! 
Still stands the forest primeval; but under the shade of its 

branches 725 

Dwells another race, with other customs and language. 
Only along the shore of the mournful and misty Atlantic 
Linger a few Acadian peasants whose fathers from exile 
Wandered back to their native land to die in its bosom: 
In the fisherman's cot the wheel and the loom are still busy; 730 

Maidens still wear their Norman caps and their kirtles of homespun, 
And by the evening fire repeat Evangeline's story, 
While from its rocky caverns the deep-voiced, neighboring ocean 
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest. 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 53 

NOTES 

Prelude 

Acadie (ah-kah-dee). The French name for Acadia or Nova Scotia. 

L. I : Forest primeval. An ancient or original forest. 

L, 3: Druids of eld. Celtic priests of ancient times. They worshiped 

in sacred groves. 
LI. 4,8,9: Harpers, roe, thatch-roof. See dictionary. 
L. 15: Grand-Pre (gron-pray). French for "great meadow." 

Part the First 
section i 

L. 5: Dikes. Walls raised to shut out the sea. 

LI. 6, 10: Turbulent tides, Blomidon. "A drive along the coast brings 
one out upon the massive brow of Blomidon itself. Here one looks 
down almost a sheer six hundred feet into the unsleeping tide. To 
the left is the giant trough through which the waters of the Bay 
of Fundy enter the Basin of Minas. The seething white-and- 
purple tides sweep to and fro with a violence which no ship can 
withstand. Shipmen must defer to the tides when they pass 
between Fundy and Minas. Blomidon will be seen to best advan- 
tage at a distance from the deck of the steamer "Evangeline." — • 
C. G. D. Roberts in The Land of Evangeline. 

L. 15: The Henries. French kings of an earlier time. 

L. 20: Kirtle. A jacket and petticoat. 

L. 30: Angelas. The ringing of the church bell to remind the people 
of certain prayers. 

L. 40: Bellefontaine. (Pronunciation: bel-fon-tane.) 

L. 53: Hyssop. A plant formerly used in religious rites for sprinkling. 

L. 55: Chaplet. A string of beads used in praying. 

L. 55: Missal. Prayerbook. 

L. 56: Norman cap. Made of white material, folded back flat from 
the face, and having a high crown in the back. 

L. 68: Penthouse. Here means a small gabled or peaked roof built 
over something as a shelter. 

L. 77: Penitent Peter. Luke 22:55-62. 

L, 92: Patron Saint. A saint supposed to have special charge of a 
place and usually honored with a feast each year. 

L. 96: Lajeunesse. (Pronunciation: la-zhu-nes.) 

L. 103 : Plain-song. A chant used in the Catholic church. 



54 

L. ii8: Wondrous stone. The children had been told that if any of 
the little swallows were blind, the mother bird knew how to find on 
the seashore a small stone that would give them back their sight. 
They also believed that these stones would cure all kinds of diseases. 

L. 125: Sunshine of Saint Eulalie. These people believed that if the 
sun shone on February 12, Saint Eulalie's day, the next harvest 
would bring plenty of apples. They gave this name to Evangeline 
because they thought she would bring blessings to her husband's 
household. 

SECTION II 

L. 130: Scorpion. Used here as the name of a constellation. When 
the sun is "retreating" southward in autumn it is said to enter 
this constellation about October 23. 

L. 134: Jacob, etc. Read Gen. 32:24. 

L. 140: Summer of All Saints. Our Indian summer. 

L. 151 : The Persian. Xerxes, who is said to have had such an admira- 
tion for a beautiful plane-tree that he dressed it like a woman and 
decked it with jewels. 

L. 212: Thy ballad. Ballad here means "song." 

L. 230: Louisburg, Beau Sejour, Port Royal. French forts not far 
from Grand-Pre, which had been captured by the English. 

LI. 236-38: Safer are we unarmed . ... the enemy^s cannon. These 
lines are spoken by the farmer in answer to Basil's allusion to the 
three French forts which the English had captured. The armed 
Acadians found by the English in some of these forts had not been 
safer, the farmer thinks, than they themselves are, unarmed, on 
their farms. 

LI. 241-43: Built are the house .... food for a twelvemonth. It is 
said to have been the custom of the Acadians to provide for every 
young man among them in the way indicated in these lines as soon 
as he was old enough to marry. 

L. 242: Glebe. Sod. 

L. 244: Rene Leblanc. (Pronunciation: reh-nay leh-blonk.) 

SECTION III 

L. 257: An old French fort. Fort Royal. 

L. 261: Loup-garou (loo-gah-roo). A man supposed to have the power 
to turn himself into a wolf in order to devour children. 

L. 263: Letiche. (Pronunciation: lay-teesh.) 

LI. 286-306: Once in an ancient city .... necklace of pearls was in- 
woven. This long story told by the man who draws up Evan- 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 55 

geline's betrothal contract is a foreshadowing of Evangeline's fate. 
The string of pearls is found in the magpie's nest after the girl has 
been executed for stealing them. Evangeline finds Gabriel, but he 
is a pauper in an almshouse, dying of a pestilence. 

L. 335: Curfew. From the French couvre-feu, or cover fire. 

L. 362: Abraham, Ishmael, Hagar. Read Gen. 21 : 14. 

SECTION IV 
L. 394: Tons les Bourgeois de Chartres (too lay boor-zhwah dc chartr). 

Title of a French song meaning, "All the good folks of Chartres." 
L. 394: Le Carillon de Dunkerque (leh kar-eh-yohn de dunkirk). Title 

of a French song meaning, "The chimes of Dunkirk." 
L. 423: Solstice of summer. The 21st of June, the time when the sun 

is farthest north of the equator. The poet means the hot summer 

weather. 
L. 442: Chancel. Eastern part of a church reserved for clergy, choir^ 

etc. Usually railed off. 
L. 447: Tocsin. A bell rung to warn or alarm. In the simile the 

clamor of the men is the tocsin, and the measured tones of the 

priest, the striking clock. 
L. 467 : "0 Father, forgive them." Read Luke 23 : 34. 
L. 465: Ave Maria. Hail, Mary — the beginning of a prayer to the 

Virgin. 
L. 467: Elijah ascending to heaven. Read II Kings 2:11. 
L. 488: Prophet descending from Sinai. Read Ex. 34:29-35. 
L. 494: Gloomier grave. The church. 

SECTION V 

L. 509: Ponderous wain. A large, four-wheeled wagon. 

L. 556: The refluent ocean. The outgoing tide. 

L. 560: Leaguer. The camp of an army. 

L. 578: Paul on Melita (meh-lee-ta) . Read Acts, chaps. 27, 28. 

L. 586: Benedicite. Latin for "Bless you." 

L. 596: Titan-like. The Titans were, in Greek mythology, a group of 
gigantic divinities. One of this race, Briareus, was a hundred- 
handed monster. But the main point here is to get a vision in 
mind of how this light that was rising gradually reached out and 
lighted up sea, sky, mountain, meadow, rocks, and rivers. 

L. 602: deeds. An old word for burning coals. 

L. 612: Far in the western prairies. Longfellow here makes one of the 
comparisons which now begin to grow frequent in the poem — those 
which suggest the parts of the West and South which were the 



56 Longfellow's ^'evangeline" 

scenes of Evangeline's long journeys. Compare 11. 611-14 with 
U. 419, 424, 427-30. 
L. 638: Bell or hook. That her father should be buried outside of the 
consecrated churchyard and without the ceremonies considered 
necessary by her church was a great afBiction to Evangeline. 

Part the Second 
section i 

L. 10: Father of Waters. The great Mississippi River is here conceived 

of as a giant laying his hands upon the hills and plains through 

which he flows and carrying them down to the sea. So far west 

as this river, then, the Acadians wandered. 
L. 18: Fair was she and young. That is, she was fair and young during 

the years described in this section. 
L. 22: As the emigrant's way, etc. Another comparison carrying the 

mind to the West. 
L. 38 : "0/f, yes! we have seen him.'' If they had seen Basil and Gabriel 

it must have been at some time previous to their settlement in 

Louisiana. 
L. 40: Coureurs-des-hois (koo-rer-da-bwah) . Runners-of-the- woods. 

They were chiefly French guides and traders. They sometimes 

became members of Indian tribes and married Indian women. 
L. 42: Voyageur (vwah-yah-zhure) . A river boatman. 
L. 48: St. Catherine's tresses. St. Catherine of Alexandria was the 

patron saint of virgins. "To braid St. Catherine's tresses" is to 

remain unmarried. 
L. 64: The funeral dirge of the ocean. See 11. 639-41, Part the First. 
L. 67: Bleeding .... existence. Entirely figurative. The figure is 

metaphor. 
L. 67: Shards. Pieces of broken pottery, etc. 
L. 68: Essay. Attempt. Muse. A Greek goddess of poetry. 

SECTION II 

L. 76: Beautiful River. Ohio means "beautiful river." 

L. 78: Golden stream. Yellow with the soil it was carrying downstream. 

L. 85: Acadian Coast. Many Acadians, after the exile, settled in 

lower Louisiana on both sides of the Mississippi. 
L. 85: Opelousas. A district of Louisiana west of the river. 
L. 99: Golden Coast. Banks of the river above New Orleans. Said to 

be so named because of the richness of the soil. See maps for all 

references to places, etc. 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 57 

L, 104: Tenebrous. An archaic word meaning "dark," "gloomy." 
L. 117: Shrinking mimosa. There are many species of the plant called 

the mimosa, but the poet here refers to the one called the sensitive 

plant. We have here another figure suggestive of the West. 
L. 142 : Atchafalaya. This river, as will be seen from the map, broadens 

out in places into lakes. 
L. 156: Ladder of Jacob. Read Gen. 28: 10-12. 
L. 190: Gabriel truly is near thee. Father Felician had doubtless been 

told, by some of the people of the region through which they were 

passing, where Basil lived and that Gabriel was with him. 
L. 191: Teche (tash). A bayou opening into the Atchafalaya. 
L. 200: Like a magician. The setting sun was like a magician in 

causing the beautiful effects given in the succeeding lines. 
L. 213 : Bacchantes. The drink-crazed female followers of Bacchus, the 

wine-god. 

SECTION III 

f' 

L. 225: Yule-tide. Yule time. This is December 21, the shortest 
day in the year, but as Christmas Day is so near it came to be called 
Yule-tide. 

Adayes (ah-day-yes). A town in Texas. 
Ozark Mountains. In Arkansas, Missouri, and Oklahoma. 
Fates. Basil probably had no idea of the three dark and 
august female divinities of Greek mythology called the Fates, but 
he doubtless believed in some over-ruling power that ought to be 
interested in bringing the lovers together. 

L. 292 : Red dew. They would start so early in the morning that the 
dew would still be reflecting the red rays of the rising sun. 

L. 296: Olympus. A mountain in Greece where the gods were sup- 
posed to live at their ease. 

L. 303: Hailed with hilarious joy. Basil's hearty outbursts of joy and 
rage are among the most natural and human things in the poem. 

L. 305: Ci-devant {sQe-dth.-va.ng) . Former. 

L. 306: Patriarchal demeanor. Basil evidently enjoyed his position 
as lord of this fair domain better than he had enjoyed working in a 
blacksmith shop. 

L. 313: Sudden darkness. They were in a latitude where there was 
almost no twilight. Why would the newly arrived Acadians 
especially notice this sudden darkness? Find several examples 
in the poem of the slow approach of darkness in Acadia. 

L. 319: Natchitoches tobacco. Grown in Louisiana in a district of that 
name. 



L. 287 
L. 288 
L, 291 



58 Longfellow's 

L. 568: Carthusian. A monk. 

L. 379: Upharsin. Read Daniel 5:5-29. 

L. 398: Prodigal Son. Read Luke 15:11-32, 

L, 399: Foolish Virgin. Read Matt. 25:1-13. 

SECTION IV 

Take a good atlas and a gazetteer, find the mountain ranges and 
valleys, and trace from source to mouth the rivers mentioned. Long- 
fellow gives the geographical names that were in use when he wrote the 
poem, and some of them have changed. The Oregon is now the Colum- 
bia, the Nebraska is the Platte. The Spanish sierras are mountains of 
Utah and New Mexico. 
L. 430: Ishmaers children. Read Gen. 21: 14-21. Longfellow means 

the Indians. 
L. 449: Fata Morgana (f ah-tah-mor-gah-nah) . A mirage. 
L. 455: Camanches. An Indian tribe of Texas and New Mexico. 
L. 474: Mowis. (Pronunciation: mo-wee.) 

L. 576: Moravians. A Christian sect now known as United Brethren 
and quite widely spread in Germany, Great Britain, and America. 
The sect was founded by followers of John Huss and has been noted 
for success in missionary work. They founded a mission in Savan- 
nah, Georgia, in 1734. Tents of Grace were tents where services 
were held and strangers welcomed and cared for. 

SECTION V 

L. 592: Dryads. Wood nymphs. 

L. 631: German farmer. A portion of Philadelphia was early settled 

by the Germans. 
L. 647: " The poor ye always have with you." Read Mark 14: 7. 
L. 661: Christ Church. A Protestant Episcopal church in Philadelphia. 
L. 690: As if life, like the Hebrew. Read Exod. 12 : 22, 23. 

SUGGESTIONS FOR NOTEBOOK WORK 

1. Make a list of, and describe briefly, the various moonlight 
scenes of the poem. 

2. In order to realize how entirely this is an out-of-doors poem, 
make a list of the few scenes that take place indoors. 

3. Make a list of contrasts, as the village on a summer evening, 
11. 18-32, and the village on the night of embarkation, 11. 466-71, 
and 11. 594-604. 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 59 

4. Make a list of alliterations, as ''summons sonorous 
sounded," "serenely the sun sank," "clock clicked," etc. 

5. Make a list of the things used by the poet for purposes of 
comparison in his similes and metaphors, as, "clouds of incense," 
"an oak covered with snow-flakes," "a fiery snake," "the swoop 
of the eagle," "Jacob wrestling with the angel," etc. Place 
together those taken from the Bible; from Nature; from the 
services of the Catholic church, etc. 

6. Make a list of striking examples of personification, as 
"gossiping looms," etc. 

7. Make lists of the birds, flowers, trees, animals, etc., men- 
tioned in the poem. 

8. Make an outline of the poem, naming in their order the 
units of description, narration, and comment, as, 

PART ONE 

Location and surroundings of Grand-Pre, 11. 1-13. 
Description of the houses, 11. 14-17. 
A summer evening in the village, 11. 18-33. 
Comments on the villagers, 11. 34-39, etc. 



INTERPRETATION 

Classification. — "Evangeline" is a narrative poem, an idyll. 
It is so called because it deals, in a fine, finished style, with country 
people and pictures from out-of-door life. 

Meter. — The meter of "Evangeline" is called dactyllic 
hexameter, because each line consists of six groups of syllables, or 
feet, and the majority of these feet are dactyls. Each line ends 
with a trochee, and trochees are often substituted for dactyls in 
other places in the lines, as shown in the following lines. 

Slowly, I slowly, ] sl6wly the | days sue ] ceeded each [ other — 
Days and | weeks and | months; and the | fields of | maize that 
were ] springing, 

In reading the poem give the first syllable of each line a decided 
stress, and rest the voice in the middle of each line by holding a 
syllable or making a pause. 



6o 

Prelude 
The Acadians were banished in the autum of 1755. Long- 
fellow wrote "Evangeline" in 1847, ninety-two years later. To 
prepare his readers for the story he opened it with a Prelude. 
In this Prelude he shows the scene of the former home of the 
Acadians as he wishes us to imagine it to appear about a 
hundred years after the banishment, at the time he wrote the 
poem. We stand with him near the ocean (he often speaks of the 
Basin of Minas as the ocean) in the twilight dimness of an old 
forest whose trees, we are made to understand, once witnessed 
a tragedy which both forest and ocean are still mourning. In 
their own language they are talking it over. The trembling old 
trees wail and murmur, the restless, booming ocean makes dis- 
consolate reply. While we are listening to this the poet still 
further whets our curiosity by hinting to us through questions 
that near this forest once lay a village in which lived a community 
of farmers who passed their quiet, uneventful lives in usefulness, 
labor, and piety. He then shows us that the pleasant farms are 
now laid waste, the farmers themselves forever gone, and suggests 
that a terrible calamity befell them which, coming suddenly, 
startled them as the voice of the hunter startles the deer in the 
forest, and then scattered them as the fierce winds of October 
might scatter dust and leaves. He shows that, in some way con- 
nected with this tragedy, was a love affair which revealed wonder- 
ful hope, endurance, patience, and devotion in a woman. This 
love story "he proposes to tell and asks all who believe in the possi- 
bility of such qualities in woman to listen as he relates it. 

Part the First 
section i 
Lines 1-38. — This opening stanza locates the village of Grand- 
Pre, gives its surroundings, describes its houses, brings its people 
before us in a typical and beautiful scene, and, finally, sums up 
for us their fine qualities. All this is done in a way to make us 
feel it an infinite pity that these people should be disturbed. In 
a fertile valley, the poem tells us, surrounded by its rich farms, 
and by great meadows to which the Acadian farmers have special 
claim, since, by "labor incessant," they have rescued them from 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 6t 

the sea, Grand-Pre "reposes," stretching its one long street along 
the shore of the Basin of Minas. It is favored by Nature itself, 
for it is sheltered by lofty Blomidon and by mountains and forests ; 
even the sea-fogs which creep up to look in on the "happy valley" 
never descend to blot out its sunshine. The houses, too, are a 
part of the people's lives, for they have hewn the heavy timbers 
and made of them such homes as their forefathers lived in in 
ancient France. The poet next gives us a picture of the long 
street of Grand-Pre on a mild summer evening. The weather 
vanes shine in the sunset light, the gaily dressed women are 
spinning in the street, we hear the cheerful whir of wheels, rattle 
of looms, and sound of singing voices; the priest coming down 
the street is respectfully greeted, the men come home from the 
fields through the twilight, the Angelus sounds, and smoke rises 
from a hundred homes where the evening meal is being prepared. 
The poet completes the attractive picture by showing that, as 
there is among them no poverty, there is no need for locks and 
bars, and that the people are open-hearted, free from fear and 
envy, and "dwell together in love." 

Lines 39-62. — Out of the midst of this ideal background 
Evangeline appears. Her home is located, and her father and her- 
self are described. Their house has a little touch of distinction 
in being set "somewhat apart from the village, and nearer the 
Basin of Minas." Her father, the wealthiest farmer of Grand-Pre, 
though a white-haired man of seventy, is stalwart, hale and hearty, 
and stately as an oak. Only seventeen summers old, "gentle 
Evangeline," "the pride of the village," is introduced as the direc- 
tress of her father's household. She is beautiful, with lustrous 
black eyes, brown hair, and the sweet breath of health. But physi- 
cal beauty is not enough for the qualities this heroine will be 
called upon to display. Three pictures are introduced from her 
daily life showing that she has also the beauty of usefulness, of 
spirit, and of personality. She is fair when she serves the reapers 
in the heat of noon, fairer when freshly arrayed and on her way to 
church, fairest of all on her return from church, when her thoughts 
have been turned toward God. Her presence brings joy, her ab- 
sence leaves regret. "When she had passed it seemed like the 
ceasing of exquisite music." 



62 Longfellow's 

Lines 63-83. — Here we are shown the exterior of Evangeline's 
home. Its rafters of oak, its position commanding the sea, its 
carved porch shaded by a vine-wreathed sycamore mark it as a 
home of beauty, and its beehives, well, wide orchards, goodly 
acres, and village of bursting barns show it to be a home of abun- 
dance. It is also, of course, a home of sacred associations. Built 
by Evangeline's father, made holy by the life and death of her 
mother, the home of her own birth, childhood, and youth, it will 
not be easy for them to be driven forth, and stand shelterless and 
see the flames destroy it. 

Lines 84-128. — The account here given of Evangeline's lovers 
serves to increase the impression of her great attractiveness and 
to lead up to the introduction of the very important character, 
Gabriel, and of his father, Basil, the blacksmith. Many youths 
at church, we are told, look at her instead of their prayerbooks, 
worship her instead of the saints; many come of evenings to her 
father's house to call, their hearts beating quite as loudly as the 
door knocker; many partners seek to win her love in the village 
dances. But among all the callers, worshipers, and lovers, 
"young Gabriel only is welcome." In 11. 100-121, the poet 
begins his task of making Evangeline's long devotion to Gabriel 
seem natural and inevitable. Theirs is no ordinary love affair 
growing out of a chance meeting and short acquaintance. Neither 
has ever known any life without the other until the fatal day of 
their separation. Their fathers are friends; from earliest child- 
hood they have grown up together as brother and sister. They 
have learned their letters from the same book, sung the hymns 
of the church, and read their lessons together; together they have 
watched the shoeing of horses in the blacksmith shop or gazed at 
its fires in the evenings. They have ridden down hill on the same 
sled and climbed together to the swallows' nests to hunt for 
the lucky stone. But at last the years have brought the day when 
"they no longer are children." Only two lines are given to the 
description of Gabriel as a young man, but they are lines packed 
with meaning. One adjective is used in describing him, one 
simile given to show the effect his face had on all beholders. The 
adjective is the wonderful word "valiant." Some of its diction- 
ary meanings are "vigorous in body," "strong," "powerful," 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 63 

■heroic," '^ intrepid in danger." The simile used 
compares the effect of his face to the effect of the "face of the 
morning," which is, of course, the sun. In that cold climate the 
greatest blessing was sunshine. The statement then is that 
Gabriel's appearance has an effect on beholders similar to the 
effect of the morning sun on the earth — it gladdens the earth 
with its light, and it "ripens thought into action." This last 
expression seems to mean that the sight of his genial, wholesome 
activity stimulated others to activity also. No wonder that 
Evangeline loved him. The last five lines of the stanza are given 
to Evangeline as a young woman. She also is likened to sun- 
shine — the "Sunshine of St. Eulalie," which brings blessings and 
abundance. 

SECTION II 

Lines 129-51. — The poet, having introduced his chief char- 
acters, now begins his story by telling about a certain autumn 
in such a way that we know he is speaking of the time when the 
events which make up the story begin to transpire. As this 
autumn came on, he tells us, the nights grew colder, the crops 
were gathered in, the wild September winds were abroad, the 
signs all foretold that the winter would be long and hard. But 
after this harsher weather came a few days of the still, magic 
beauty of a northern Indian summer. 

Lines 152-yQ. — On a certain beautiful evening of this Indian 
summertime, as the cool twilight comes on and the evening star 
appears, the cattle and sheep at Evangeline's home come slowly 
in from the meadows. Later, through the moonlight, come great 
wagon loads of hay. The milking is done in the barnyard, the 
great barn doors are closed, and all about the farm outside the 
house is silent. The pictures in this stanza are fairly fragrant 
with the dewy odors of the farm and are given with loving minute- 
ness as a contrast to the devastation so soon to prevail. 

Lines i8o-g8. — Indoors, on this same evening, all is in order 
and there is an air of expectancy. Benedict sits in his armchair 
before the fire singing Christmas songs he had learned from his 
father in France in his childhood, and Evangeline sits spinning 
beside him. They feel secure, but the poet seems to wish to sug- 
gest that^their security is false. The flames and smoke of the 



64 Longfellow's "evangeline" 

fire, he says, struggle like foes in a burning city, Benedict's 
shadow on the wall mocks him and vanishes in darkness, the 
faces carved on his chair laugh at him, the very plates on the 
dresser reflect back the firelight "as shields of armies the 
sunshine." 

Lines igg-248. — The expected guests arrive. Benedict wel- 
comes Basil with a request to take a seat and a pipe, saying that he 
is most himself when his face is shining either through the smoke 
of his forge or his pipe. Basil smilingly replies that Benedict is 
always ready with a jest or a song when all others are fearing ruin. 
Their errand there is not to talk coming disaster, but Basil is 
so full of it that before the real business of the evening can be 
broached, he has told that English ships have for four days been 
anchored in the harbor with their cannon pointed toward Grand- 
Pre, that no one knows what they intend, but the people are 
ordered to meet in the church on the next day to hear the will of 
the king, that all weapons have been taken from the men, that 
the people remember other French forts and towns that have been 
taken by the English, and many, in great alarm, are fleeing to the 
forests, and all anxiously await what may happen on the morrow. 
But the minds of Evangeline and her father are full of other things. 
Preparations for her wedding have been rapidly going on, her 
new house is built and stored with food for a year, the barn is built 
and filled with hay, great piles of linen and woolen stuff are pre- 
pared, tonight is the time set for the solemn betrothal contract, the 
notary who is to make it out will soon be there, and tomorrow the 
great betrothal feast and dance are to be given to which all the 
people of the village and surrounding country will come. Their 
minds have been too much occupied with happiness and love to 
think of danger and fear. So Benedict, naturally hopeful, sug- 
gests that some friendly purpose brings the ships to their shores, 
and that they are safe there unarmed on their farms. 

SECTION III 

Lines 24g-jio. — The notary who now enters is a type of 
Acadian quite unlike the sturdy farmer and blacksmith and the 
vigorous young Gabriel. As his part in the story is so small, this 
long stanza devoted to him seems to be introduced to add one more 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 65 

note of pity to the thought of a banishment that must include 
this lovable, friendly, trustful old man. He is bent and old, the 
poet tells us; has a kind of child-like wisdom; is loved by all, but 
especially by the children; has twenty children and more than a 
hundred grandchildren; and has suffered the vengeance of the 
French for being the friend of the English. Basil quickly breaks 
in upon him with a question about the ships and their meaning, and 
he, like Benedict, thinks the English mean good to them and not 
evil. At least, he is sure that, in the end, justice will prevail, and 
tells his story to prove it. The story, as an example of the triumph 
of justice, would seem to have been more convincing to Basil if 
the thunderbolt had hit the statue before the poor girl was exe- 
cuted. 

Lines 311-33. — The story doubtless seems long to the lovers. 
When it is finished, Evangeline quickly lights the lamp, fills a 
tankard with ale, and the solemn contract is duly made out and 
sealed with the seal of the law. Then the notary, blessing them 
as bride and bridegroom, departs and leaves them to a few moments 
of sacred silence. Presently Evangeline brings out the checker- 
board and the fathers play and the lovers visit, as if there were no 
England and no France to make people hate each other, but only 
loving human hearts in all the world. 

Lines 334-62. — Too soon the curfew sounds, sweet good 
nights are said, the fire is covered, and Evangeline, retiring to her 
chamber, has a face so shining with happiness that her presence 
lights the darkness more than does the lamp she carries. There 
is no foreshadowing of evil, except that, a few times, in her moon- 
lighted chamber, thinking of Gabriel, a sadness comes for a mo- 
ment, but passes as quickly as the fleecy cloud shadows pass away 
from the moon. 

SECTION IV 

Lines 363-83. — Everybody in Grand-Pre is up long before 
sunrise the next morning, busy with the work that must be done 
before they can go to Evangeline's betrothal dance. The waters 
of the Bay gleam in the sunshine, save where the English ships 
still cast their dark shadows. The gaily dressed, laughing groups 
c: me in from every direction; every house has guests; but Bene- 
dict's home, with Evangeline as hostess, is the center of hospitality. 



66 Longfellow's ''evangeline" 

Lines J84-400. — This betrothal feast, and the long, gay morn- 
ing of dancing in the orchard with all her friends about her, wishing 
her well, and with her lover, "noblest of all the youths," for a 
partner, is the climax of Evangeline's earthly happiness, as well 
as of the poet's idealized pictures of early Acadian life. 

Lines 401-40. — Sounds louder than Michael's fiddle stop the 
dancing. The church bell is clanging, and a sound of drums comes 
from over the meadows. The men hasten to the church, the 
women follow and wait among the graves. The soldiers, with 
drums still beating, march up and enter the church, the great door 
is closed, and the men wait in silence the message that is to be given 
them. They do not have to wait long. The English commander 
announces that they have been thus called together by order of the 
king, that they and all their people are to be transported to other 
countries, and their farms, houses, flocks, and herds are to be 
taken by the king. As a sudden, deadly hail storm causes destruc- 
tion and confusion on their farms, so these words, the poet tells us, 
bring wild confusion to the hearts of the farmers. After a moment 
of stunned silence comes a rising wail of anger and a mad rush for 
the doorway, but with cries and oaths they find there is no escape. 
As they storm and rage, Basil, above all the rest, shouts threats 
of defiance and death until he is beaten and dragged to the floor. 

Lines 441-62. — But resistance is useless and can end only in 
bloodshed and death to the Acadians. The priest enters, secures 
their attention, reminds them that this is no place for deeds of 
violence and hatred; he speaks also of how Christ, even on the cross, 
uttered the prayer, "O Father, forgive them," and asks them to 
try to repeat with him that prayer. This they finally, amid sobs, 
are able to do. 

Lines 463-67. — ^The familiar evening service following, in 
which they are accustomed to join, soothes the wrath in their 
hearts and lifts their thoughts to holier things. 

Lines 468-8g. — The women, meantime, have heard the news 
and are going in weeping bewilderment from house to house. 
But Evangeline has her father's supper ready and is waiting 
and watching at the door, for perchance the news may not be 
true. There is no room in her heart for hatred. It is too full of 
compassion for the poor women, whom she soon goes forth to try 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 67 

to cheer, as they take their desolate way, with their tired children, 
across the darkening fields to the houses they had so gaily come 
forth from in the morning. 

Lines 4go-j04. — Here is given one of the most pathetic scenes 
in the poem. The young girl, after the women have gone to their 
homes, steals through the darkness to the church, finds her way 
among the graves, and listens at door and window. She calls, but 
is answered by a silence like that of the grave. She at last makes 
her way to her father's house. It is a home no longer, but a 
strange place, empty, dark, and cold. She enters in fear, takes 
refuge in her chamber, and, finally, in the dead of the night, the 
sound of rain on the sycamore tree and of rolling bursts of thunder 
remind her that God is in heaven, and, comforted, "she peacefully 
slumbers till morning." 

SECTION V 

Lines 505-13. — Four days of dismal preparation follow. 
The morning of the fifth day sees, coming from surrounding farms, 
mournful processions of women, bringing their children and 
household goods to the seashore. The children, the poet tells us, 
have their playthings in their little hands, and the women often 
pause for a last tearful look at their homes. 

Lines 514-33. — The precious home belongings of the women 
are strewn on the shore in confusion. All day the boats are 
carrying them to the ships, all day more are being brought from the 
village. At last, toward evening, at the sound of drums from 
the churchyard, the women rush thither. The doors swing open, 
the guard of soldiers marches out in front, the young men follow, 
and after them come the old men. Their wives and daughters 
surround them. When the procession moves forward the young 
men begin a sacred song, the old men soon take it up, and the 
women and children join in; so, all singing together, they move 
forward toward the sea. 

Lines 534-48. — Evangeline, calm and strong, as if knowing 
that she must be the one to speak words of comfort, awaits the 
coming of the procession "half-way down to the shore." As 
the young men are in advance, Gabriel first comes into view. 
The sight of his face, pale with emotion, brings the tears, and 



68 

they have, save one, their last meeting on earth. It is inter- 
rupted by the slow approach of Evangeline's father, for she soon 
sees that he is utterly broken. The blow has been too much for 
him — he is beyond the reach of comfort. Evangeline can only 
speak "words of endearment where words of comfort avail not." 

Lines 549-71. — The shore is a scene of tumult. Night is 
coming on, the tide will soon be going out, and, in the disorder and 
haste, wives and husbands are separated, and mothers are carried 
out to sea while their children stand crying wildly for them on 
the shore. Basil is taken to one ship, Gabriel to another, and 
Evangeline and her father are left on the shore. Not half the 
people are on the ships when the tide goes out, and the remainder, 
guarded by sentinels, have to camp for the night on the open shore. 
Leaving them there for a moment, the poet, who seems to love 
the Acadian farms, takes us back for one last look. But the 
scene is a sad one. The streets are silent, no lights are in the 
houses, no smoke comes from the chimneys, and the wondering 
herds stand lowing at the gates, waiting for their nightly care. 

Lines 572-93. — The people on the bleak shore gather around 
driftwood fires, and the priest, passing from one group to another, 
comes upon Evangeline, trying in vain to make her father take 
food, speak, or recognize her; but, bereft of reason, he only stares 
vacantly at the fire. The priest, in deepest sympathy, gives her 
his blessing, and they weep silently together. 

Lines 594-616. — One more agony is reserved for the Acadian s. 
Before they go they must know that their homes are utterly 
destroyed, so that they shall feel no temptation to return. Their 
camp on the shore, the sea, the sky, the ships, the roofs of the 
village houses seem suddenly to be lighted up; smoke rises into 
the air, the wind carries the burning thatch from roof to roof, and 
the hundred houses of the village seem to start into flames all 
at once. 

Lines 617-46. — The Acadians both on the shore and on ship- 
board see the flames of their burning homes, and another cry 
of anguish arises. Then, listening, they hear the crowing of 
cocks, the lowing of cattle and barking of dogs, then the trampling 
and bellowing of the herds as they break loose and run wildly over 
the meadows. But the burning of the village and of her two 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 69 

homes is not to be the climax of poor Evangeline's griefs. Turn- 
ing her gaze from the fire to look after her father, she finds him 
fallen dead on the ground. The priest lifts the lifeless head, and 
she kneels in grief and terror. But the over-wrought body refuses 
longer to support the patient spirit, and a merciful unconsciousness 
comes upon her which lasts till morning. She then wakens to 
meet the pale, tearful faces of many friends, and to see the light 
of the still blazing village. They bury her father by the sea, the 
returning tide comes in with a roar, the hurry of embarking again 
begins, and the ships go out of the harbor with the ebbing tide. 

Part the Second 
section i 
Lines 1-75. — Several years of Evangeline's life have passed 
after the exile before we, in section II, are again permitted to 
know definitely what she is doing. The Acadians, we are told, 
were landed in groups in widely scattered places. Those who 
had been separated from relatives soon began traveling about in 
search of them. They went from north to south, from the coast 
to the region of the Mississippi. They not only hunted for their 
friends, but they also tried to find homes. Many of them, heart- 
broken, died in despair, and their names were seen on head- 
stones in lonely graveyards. Evangeline, as we learn later in the 
poem, was landed at Philadelphia with a small group, among whom 
seem to have been Rene Leblanc and his son Baptiste and Father 
Felician. For a long time, the poet says, she "waited and wan- 
dered." Some of these years of waiting must have been in Phila- 
delphia, for she was there long enough to learn to love the city 
and the Quakers, and to yearn for it afterward as a home when 
she gave up her search. The years of waiting and wandering 
spoken of here, while seeming so long, were yet during the time 
when she was still fair and young, and long life stretched before 
her like a desert. The wanderings of this time seem to have 
been short journeys from town to town. She went into grave- 
yards and read the inscriptions on the tombstones or sat for a 
long time by some nameless grave, thinking her lover might be 
buried there. She heard rumors; she even met and talked with 
people who had seen and known him, but always long before or 



70 Longfellow's "evangeline" 

in some distant place. She heard that Gabriel and his father were 
hunters and trappers in the West, that Gabriel was a boatman in 
Louisiana. She was advised to forget Gabriel and marry someone 
else, Baptiste Leblanc, for instance, who had loved her many years. 
She could not make up her mmd to do so. The priest supported 
her decision and advised her to continue her search if she wished. 
In 11. 68-75 the poet offers a prayer to the Muse for help in his 
attempt to tell the further story of her search. 

SECTION II 

Lines 76-124. — The poet opens the first scene of Evangeline's 
wanderings with a picture of a boatload of Acadians, men, women, 
and children, floating down the Ohio River in the month of May. 
Evangeline is with them, also Father Felician. They have 
started for Louisiana, hoping to find relatives and friends among 
the Acadians who have settled there. They enter the Mississippi 
and turn southward, traveling for weeks through the changing, 
varied scenery of the river (11. 87-99), floating and rowing by 
day and camping on the shores at night. At last, reaching the 
place where the river makes a great sweep to the eastward, they, 
turning to the westward and entering the bayou of Plaquemine, 
"soon were lost in a maze of sluggish and devious waters." While 
rowing on and on, trying to find their way through the endless 
"maze," night overtakes them. The absence of human life, the 
mysterious strangeness of all the sights and sounds bring to the 
Acadians forebodings of unknown ill, but Evangeline is happy 
in the thought that at last she is really in a place where Gabriel 
has been, and that each stroke of the oar brings him nearer. 

Lines 125-40. — Finally, at midnight, to break the spell of 
mystery, a boatman in the prow rises and blows a ringing bugle 
blast. No answer comes save echoes which die away leaving the 
silence deeper than before. After this Evangeline sleeps, but 
the boatmen row on all night, occasionally breaking the silence 
by singing familiar Canadian boat-songs. 

Lines 141-61. — ^It is nearly noon the next day before they 
leave the gloomy bayou and enter the sunlit waters of the Lakes 
of Atchafalaya. It is a beautiful sight with its water lilies, lotus 
flowers, and magnolia blossoms, but they are tired, the heat of 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 



71 





i£^^ ■ •■ 








'W. 




m 




'/ 


li 


^^^I^SHifill 






^W 


^ H 


SsfcifTi?^ fe^.i*fl^fe^^feR. 


L'SSk-- . * 




|| 


Hi 




'^^ 


IPIIIII 


n 




1^ 


* 




1 




1 


J 


i 


1 







By courtesy of the Southern Pacijic — "Sunset Route ' 



Evangeline Oak, Bayou Teche, New Iberia, Louisiana 



72 

noon is oppressive, the air is heavy with odors, and many green 
islands with roses in bloom invite them to rest and slumber. 
Landing on the most beautiful one to be seen, they carefully hide 
their boat under the willows on the margin, find a shaded place 
under a cedar where grape-vines and trumpet-flowers hang from 
the branches to conceal them, stretch themselves on the ground, 
and heavily slumber. Evangeline's closing eyes rest on the 
climbing ladders of vines with the humming-birds flitting about 
them; the sight mingles in her dreams with the joy of her approach- 
ing meeting with Gabriel, and in happy vision the vines become 
Jacob's ladders with angels ascending and descending. 

Lines 162-g'/. — ^A boat, not like their cumbrous one, but 
light and swift, a boat that darts and speeds, comes up through 
the islands, urged on by sinewy arms, its prow turned northward. 
Gabriel is at the helm, thoughtful and careworn, his dark locks 
neglected, sadness on his face. Unhappy and restless, he is seek- 
ing "oblivion of self and of sorrow." They come swiftly up, close 
to the island, but by the opposite bank, and "behind a screen of 
palmettos." They see neither the boat nor the sleepers, and no 
angel of God from the ladder of Evangeline's vision descends to 
awaken her. After the boat has passed swiftly away "like the 
shade of a cloud on the prairie," the sleepers awaken. Evangeline 
knows that they are nearing the end of their journey and the 
thought that Gabriel may be near is so vivid that his presence 
has colored her dreams. When she speaks to the priest about it, 
he, not knowing what has happened, tells her the good news he has 
doubtless lately heard from some of the inhabitants of the region — 
that Gabriel lives near there with his father. 

Lines ig8-222. — They row on down the lakes until evening. 
The setting sun presently touches with magic fire the sky, water, 
and forest, and the still water reflects so perfectly that they seem 
to hang between two skies. Touched by the beauty of the scene 
and filled with joy at the thought of the expected meeting with 
Gabriel, Evangeline's heart glows with love and happiness as does 
the landscape with sunshine. But, sad omen, although she does 
not recognize it as such, a mocking-bird near by throws out such 
a wild flood of music that "the whole air and the waves and the 
woods seemed to listen." In the midst of this mocking music 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 



73 



they slowly enter the Teche, see on the opposite bank a column 
of smoke, and hear the sounds of a horn. 

SECTION III 

Lines 223-45. — ^And this is Basil's home, Gabriel's home! As 
the boat draws up at the landing in front of the house, how eagerly 
Evangeline's eyes must take in every detail — the large, low- 
roofed, oak-shaded, garden-encircled house, the rose-wreathed 







M E X I C 



^'iijyi^' 



Draiuti by Air. Everest 

Map Illustrating Evangeline's Travels in Lower Louisiana 



veranda, the path running from the garden gate back of the 
house, through the oak grove, to the prairie. How she must 
hope, too, for something that does not happen! 

Lines 246-g3. — Out where grove and prairie meet they see a 
horseman, but only one; they hear him blow his horn, and see 
the cattle lift their heads and rush away. They land from the 
boat, pass around the house, and out the back garden gate to meet 



74 Longfellow's "evangeline" 

the horseman. It is Basil, and what a welcome they get! He 
takes them back through the gate into a rose arbor in the garden, 
and there are embraces, tears, laughter, and many questions and 
answers. But no Gabriel comes, and no word of Gabriel is spoken. 
Evangeline begins to fear the blow that is coming, and when, a 
few moments later, she hears the dreaded truth, it almost over- 
whelms her. In heart-broken despair, she weeps and laments 
without restraint. She soon learns that Gabriel has only just on 
that day gone, that he has been moody, restless, and troubled, 
thinking always of her; if he talked at all, talking of her and his 
troubles, until he had grown so "tedious," even to his father, that 
he had been sent away to trade for mules with the Spaniards, 
after which he was to hunt and trap in the Ozark Mountains. 
Basil assures her that they will start in pursuit of him in the 
morning and will surely soon overtake him, for "the Fates and 
the streams are against him." 

Lines 2Q4-312. — The Acadians who came with Evangeline 
have found their old friend, Michael, the fiddler, who has long 
lived with Basil, and are bringing him to the house on their 
shoulders. Evangeline and Father Felician also give him hearty 
greetings. When Basil meets all these, his former friends, there 
are again laughter, tears, and much eager talk. They marvel at 
Basil's wealth and his tales of this new land and soon go inside 
to partake of his hospitality and feast joyously together. 

Lines 313-93. — They feast till darkness falls and the moon 
rises outside. Basil ends the banquet with a glowing account of 
the advantages to be had here as compared with their old home in 
Acadia. Merry voices soon interrupt. Basil's neighbors, the 
Creoles and Acadians who live in the vicinity, have been invited 
to spend the evening and are coming in. Michael's fiddle sounds 
and the gay dance begins. The priest and Basil again sit apart, 
as at Evangeline's betrothal dance (11. 386-87), but her father 
and the notary are not now with them. The memories caused by 
the scene are too much for Evangeline. Ever since the fatal night 
of her father's death there has resounded in her ears the noise 
of the sea as she heard it then; but this scene makes it sound 
more loudly than ever. Unable to endure it, she steals out into 
the garden. The moon, now up above the trees, touches their 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 75 

tops with silver and the flowers fill the air with odors; but, wishing 
still greater quiet, she goes out through the garden gate, under the 
grove of oaks, to the edge of the prairie, and there, like Philip 
Ray in Tennyson's "Enoch Arden," she "has her dark hour alone." 
Linesjg4-4i2. — Morning comes, the goodbys are said, Evange- 
line's new journey is begun. Swiftly they follow Gabriel; but not 
on that day, or the next, or the next, nor for many days do they 
even get trace of his whereabouts. At length, at the Spanish town 
to which he has been sent, they learn that he has been there, and, 
only on the day before their arrival, "had taken the road of the 
prairies." 

SECTION IV 

Lines 413-40. — In this stanza the poet gives the location and 
character of the country into which Gabriel went and Basil and 
Evangeline followed. He is, no doubt intentionally, somewhat 
indefinite as to the exact location of these so-called prairies, but? 
in a general way, the portion of country immediately south and 
southeast of Colorado seems to be indicated. This prairie coun- 
try, we are told, was "wondrous beautiful," billowy with grass and 
bright with flowers — great game was there, such as the buffalo, 
elk, and roebuck — wandering wolves were there, and herds of 
riderless horses; also fires and winds. Vultures circled above, 
bears dug for roots by the brook-sides, and always, inverted above 
it, was the "clear and crystalline heaven." 

Lines 441-50. — Through this country, with Indian guides, 
they swiftly follow Gabriel for many days, expecting each morn- 
ing that before night they will overtake him, but each day meeting 
failure and disappointment. 

Lines 451-gg. — Only on one of these evenings of travel are 
we permitted to be with them at their camp-fire — the evening on 
which a sad-faced Indian woman appears at their camp. She is 
making her lonely way to her far northeastern home from the 
southwest country where her husband has been murdered. The 
poet here (11. 460-84) gives a beautiful illustration of the fact that 

.... in all ages 
Every human heart is human. 
After the men, wrapped in their blankets, are asleep by the fire, 
the Indian woman, having, no doubt, perceived the quality of 



76 Longfellow's "evangeline" 

Evangeline's sympathy, sits at her tent door and tells the story of 
her love and loss. Evangeline, in turn, finds infinite relief in telling 
to this understanding heart the story of her own love and all its 
disasters. But Evangeline's story affects the Indian woman 
strangely. She sees in it something supernatural, and, after a 
silence, tells her a story of a man of snow who wooed an Indian 
maiden and then dissolved into mocking sunshine, also of a 
phantom that, by means of the soft breezes in the tree tops, 
whispered of love to the fair Lilinau until she followed him away 
and was never heard of more. As Evangeline listens to these 
tales the first real doubt of the final outcome of her search takes 
possession of her. 

Lines 500-541. — On their journey the next day the Shawnee 
tells Evangeline of a near-by mission, and she immediately wishes 
to go there, for, with hope springing eternal, she believes that 
good news awaits her there. Thither they turn their steeds, and a 
day's travel brings them to the mission just at sunset when a vesper 
service is being held. They reverently join in the service. At 
its close the priest comes forward to welcome them, is delighted to 
hear his native French tongue again, leads them to his tent, and 
feasts them on his meager fare of corn cakes and water. Evange- 
line has looked in vain among the strangers for Gabriel. Their 
story is soon told, and the kind priest, softening the harsh truth 
as much as possible, tells her that not six days before Gabriel sat 
in that same spot, telling the same sad tale, but has now gone far 
to the North, and will not return till the chase is done. Evangeline 
sadly asks leave to stay at the mission and Basil returns to his home. 

Lines 542-61. — Evangeline reaches the mission in the early 
summer. The summer passes into late autumn, and Gabriel does 
not return. 

Lines 562-73. — ^Winter passes away, and spring comes again. 
Evangeline has been more than a year at the mission and no word 
of Gabriel has come. So long and hard to bear has the silence 
been that when summer brings a rumor of his whereabouts it is 
"sweeter than song of bird, or hue or odor of blossom." In far 
away Michigan, on the banks of the Saginaw River, the rumor 
says, Gabriel has his lodge. The weary, perilous journey to that 
place is taken, only to find the lodge deserted and fallen to ruin. 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 77 

Lines 574-86. — But the search does not yet end. Many 
years of Evangeline's life pass in such ways as have been described. 
She visits the Moravian missions. As they welcome all wanderers, 
Gabriel may be there. She visits camps and battlefields, hamlets, 
towns, and cities, always hoping anew, always disappointed. Her 
beauty slowly fades, streaks of gray come in her hair. And at 
last, after many years, the fruitless search is abandoned. 

SECTION V 

Lines 587-632. — Because she had landed there after the 
banishment and found a kindly home, because there her old 
friend, Rene Leblanc, had lived and died, because she liked the 
city and the speech of the Quakers, when her journeyings end 
Evangeline turns to Philadelphia as a home. Now that she has 
decided to search no longer, a wonderful and beautiful change 
comes over her spirit. The mists fall from her mind, peace pos- 
sesses her, and she seems, as from a height, to see the world, dark 
no longer, but filled and illumined with love. Gabriel is not for- 
gotten. His image is enshrined in her heart, young and loving, as 
she knew him in his youth. Three things her hard life has 
taught her — patience, unselfishness, devotion to others. Her love 
is not wasted, but diffused among many. She becomes a Sister 
of Mercy and gives her life to the work of reheving distress and 
want, sickness and sorrow. Night after night the watchman 
sees her light in the homes of the wretched, morning after morning 
the German farmers, going early into the city with fruits for. the 
markets, meet her returning to her home from her watchings. 

Lines 633-54. — ^At length a great pestilence falls on the city — 
death floods in on life as the tides come in from the sea. The 
rich, the beautiful, the poor all feel its scourge; but the poor, 
having neither friends nor money to pay nurses, creep away to die 
in the almshouse that stands in the edge of the city. Evangeline 
immediately chooses this almshouse as the scene of her labors and 
ministers to the sufferers day and night. No wonder that the 
sick and dying think of her and look at her with adoration. 

Lines 655-715. — On a certain Sabbath morning she wends her 
way through the deserted streets to the almshouse. Entering, 
she pauses to gather some flowers from its garden for the sick. On 



78 Longfellow's 

her way up the stairs the soft music of the chimes from the belfry 
of Christ Church near by mingles with the sound of psalm-singing 
by the Swedes in another church near at hand. A sweet calm 
falls upon her spirit, a feeling comes over her that her trials are 
ended. She enters the chamber and sees the attendant busily 
caring for the sick and dying. Many turn to bless her as she 
passes. She notices that many familiar faces are missing, and 
that strangers fill their places. Suddenly, as she looks at one of 
these strangers, her lips part, the color flees from her face, the 
flowers drop from her hands, and she utters a terrible cry of 
anguish. There before her, on a pallet in this almshouse, an old 
man with thin gray hair, is Gabriel, dying with the fever. He 
lies motionless and senseless, his spirit seeming to be sinking into 
darkness. That cry pierces his consciousness and brings his spirit 
back. He hears her voice speak his name, and it brings to him a 
faint dream of his old Acadian home, and a vision of Evangeline, as 
in her girlhood. The tears come to his eyes and his eyelids slowly 
open. The vision vanishes, but Evangeline herself is beside him. 
He tries to speak her name, tries to rise, a sweet light comes for a 
moment into his eyes, then goes out in darkness, and he is gone. 
Evangeline knows, even in her sorrow, that the long uncertainty, 
the restlessness, the "constant anguish of patience," has also 
passed from her life. It is good to have found him at last and 
to have brought to him, even in death, one moment of joy. 
"Meekly she bowed her head and murmured, 'Father, I thank 
Thee.'" 

SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS 

Prelude 

Whom does the title point out as the chief character of the 
story? Give the meaning of the word "prelude." Into how 
many stanzas is the Prelude divided ? Which stanza tells some- 
thing about the place where part of the events of the story hap- 
pened ? Which part speaks of the people of the story ? Which 
part tells something about the kind of story it is to be ? Where 
is the forest mentioned in 1. i ? Are we looking at this forest 
before or after the happenings told of in the story? Is the twi- 
light, through which the trees are indistinctly seen, caused by the 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 79 

oncoming of evening or by the natural shade of the forest ? The 
sound made by the trees causes them to be compared to whom 
(1. 3) ? In appearance they are compared to whom (1. 4) ? This 
forest is said in 1. 4 to be uttering what ? and to be receiving from 
the ocean what kind of a reply ? For what are they mourning ? 
What feeling about the Evangeline story do these six opening 
lines give us, especially the two last lines which tell us that Nature 
herself still mourns it ? Where is the first hint that people once 
lived near this forest ? Read the line which tells their nationality, 
occupation, and the kind of homes they lived in ? Does the com- 
parison in 1. 8 refer to a feeling of joy or to one of fear ? Read 
the two lines that describe the Acadian farmers. What, in the 
comparison used, indicates that they were a peaceful, useful 
people ? that they had their sorrows ? that they were a good and 
blameless people ? Read the four lines that answer the questions 
the poet asks in the first five lines of the stanza. Notice how, in 
11. 12-15, oi^r curiosity is aroused by giving the results of the 
calamity, whatever it was, that befell them — the farms laid waste, 
the people violently scattered, the village so completely destroyed 
that only a tradition of its existence remains. Yet we are not 
told what the calamity was, or how or when it happened. That 
will be unfolded to us as the story goes on. What else (1. 19) is 
to be part of the story? Name at least four great forms of 
Nature that are personified and represented as doing something in 
the Prelude. 

Part the First 

section i 
What in the poem shows that Longfellow has Grand- Pre in 
mind as a village with one long street? See 11. 19, 24, 55, etc. 
Study 11. 1-12 and make a little map, locating the street, mead- 
ows, dikes, fields, etc. The village (1. 2) is "distant" from what ? 
What in 1. 5 indicates that these farmers had a peculiar claim to 
these rich meadows ? What word in 1. 6 personifies the tides ? 
What expression in 1. 11 personifies the sea-fogs? What expres- 
sions in 1. 12 personify the mists? How do both mists and fogs 
favor the valley? What are next described (11. 13-17)? From 
these four lines give at least six statements describing the houses. 
What two things, as given in 11. 14, 15, would give the people a 



8o Longfellow's 

peculiar affection for their houses? The poet now brings the 
villagers themselves before us in three street scenes, which he 
wishes us to think typical. These are given in 11. 18-23, 24-27, 
and 28-32. Why does he choose the pleasantest season of the year 
and one of the most pleasant times of day for these scenes ? In 
the first scene, what are the women in the street doing? What 
are those in the houses doing ? What three cheerful sounds are 
mentioned? Which one proves that they were having a good 
time? Give three reasons why they are happy though hard at 
work. (Answer: They are associated together in their work, 
are in a pleasant place, and are working for themselves.) What 
five touches of color does the poet put into the picture ? What in 
1.20 suggests cleanliness ? Can you tell how the poet contrives 
to make this whole scene of busy labor seem so much like a 
holiday? Had Evangeline doubtless taken part in scenes like 
this all her life? The second one of the evening street scenes 
(11. 24-27) is given to show what traits of these people? Where 
is the sun when these evening scenes begin ? Where, when they 
close ? What virtues are pointed out in 11. 33-38 ? 

In what special particulars, in 11. 40, 41, are Evangeline's 
home and her father distinguished from the rest ? Locate their 
house on your map, also the church, Basil's blacksmith shop, etc., 
and then notice, as you proceed with the poem, whether you need 
to make any changes. From 11. 40-45 give Evangeline's father's 
age, stature, the color of his hair, his complexion, the state of his 
health, his household arrangements, and financial standing. Why 
is he compared to an oak? Where do these lines show that 
Evangeline is already capable of bearing responsibility? How 
are we shown in the last part of 1. 42 that, although the only child 
of the richest man in Grand-Pre, she was too lovable to excite 
envy ? Read the four lines which describe her physical beauty. 
Is the service Evangeline renders in 11. 50, 51 told of as if work of 
that kind were unusual with her ? What are these lines intended 
to add to our knowledge of Evangeline's attractions? (Answer: 
That she has the beauty of helpfulness, service, usefulness.) The 
next picture given from Evangeline's life to show her attractive- 
ness (11. 52-58) represents her as doing what ? Can you think of 
two reasons why she is fairer in this picture than in the one just 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 8 1 

before ? What three colors do the maidens of the village wear 
(1. 2i) ? Why should the poet have Evangeline choose to wear 
blue? What favorable heredity has Evangeline as shown in 
11. 43, 44 ? These Acadians were peasants, which meant, except in 
very unusual cases, extreme poverty. What favorable suggestions, 
then, regarding her family, are given in the last part of 1. 56 and 
in 11. 57, 58 ? The poet, in this introduction of Evangeline, seems 
to wish to show the contrast between the settled regularity and 
contented industry of her early years with the turbulent unrest of 
her life after the tragedy, and also to show how her manner of 
enduring her fate is a logical outcome of the traits she exhibits in 
youth. To this end he places the climax of Evangeline's attrac- 
tions in the scene of her return from church (11. 59-62), showing 
that she has attained the spiritual development which enables her 
to draw strength from sources higher than herself. 

We are in the following lines to be made better acquainted 
with Evangeline's farm home. Does this stanza refer at all to 
the interior of the home? What one item in 1. 63 gives a 
little idea of the interior ? Was the woodbine on the tree or the 
porch ? What was the penthouse over the beehives for ? Where 
did the pattern on which it was built come from ? How did they 
get the water out of their well? Beginning with 1. 73, read the 
lines given to the barns and farmyard. What farming imple- 
ments had they? What is a wain? Why must these wains be 
broad-wheeled? Are these people, as pictured by the poet, a 
progressive people ? (See 11. 15, 68-70, and the last part of 1. 74.) 
For this reason will it be harder or easier for them to have their 
old, established way of living broken up ? Why, in Acadia and on 
stock farms, would it be necessary to have many barns "bursting" 
with hay? Is this barnyard, as the poet describes it, an agree- 
able or a disagreeable place? "Mutation" (1. Ss) means change. 
This element of Evangeline's life is suggested by the weather- 
cocks. What other one suggested by the dove-cots ? 

In 11. 86-94 we have an account of the manner in which the 
young men of the village tried to make love to Evangeline in what 
three different places? This serves not only to increase our 
impression of Evangeline's charms, but to lead up to the intro- 
duction of what important character? Evangeline was brought 



82 Longfellow's 

into the story by a brief account of her father. Gabriel is now 
introduced in the same way. By what statements does the poet 
hasten to let us know that Gabriel's father is just as important a 
man in the village as Evangeline's father is ? What fact given in 
the first part of 1. loo brought the children into close association 
with each other? Do either of them appear to have mothers 
living? brothers or sisters? How did they receive their book 
education and of what did it consist? What four amusements 
are mentioned (11. 104-16) as examples of their play together? 
How would this long association affect their sense of loss when 
separated? Remembering that all these circumstances were 
invented or arranged by the poet, we get an insight into the art by 
which he makes Evangeline's long search seem more probable. 
What qualities in Gabriel as a youth (11. 122, 123) help toward 
the same end? 

SECTION II 

We have already been told where and to whom the 
tragedy happened. It occurred when or in what season, as shown 
in 11. 129 to middle of I. 139 ? And in what part of the season as 
shown in 11. 139-51 ? It is placed in this quiet, beautiful season 
for the sake of what contrast ? What sign of autumn in 11. 1 29, 130 ? 
in 11. 131, 132 ? What two signs in 11. 133, 134 ? What two signs of 
a hard winter? Nature here almost seems to be foreshadowing 
also the long, hard winter into which Evangeline's summer is 
about to pass. By mentioning what five characteristics of 
Indian summer does Longfellow make the fine description given in 
11. 141-51 ? 

Now (extending through 11. 152-400) comes the account of 
Evangeline's Indian summer of happiness before her winter begins. 
It opens with four ideally peaceful and beautiful scenes at Evange- 
line's farm home on the evening of her betrothal contract. What 
is the evening called in 1. 152 ? (See also 11. 28-32.) Each one of 
the farm scenes given (11. 153-79) might be painted by an artist. 
If they were so painted to be hung in a gallery, and the first one 
(11. 153-59) were named "Cattle Coming from the Pasture at 
Evening," what might the second (11. 160-66) be named? the 
third (11. 167-72)? the fourth (11. 173-79)? What hint of new 
country conditions is in 1. 166 ? 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 83 

Does the poem give any other picture of Evangeline alone in 
her home with her father ? Will the old man ever sit by his own 
fireside again ? What, in 1. 182, are the flames and smoke-wreaths 
said to be doing? In 1. 183 what is the father's shadow doing? 
What becomes of it (1. 184) ? What are the carved faces on his 
chair doing (1. 186) ? How do the plates on the dresser reflect the 
light (1. 187) ? Do Evangeline or her father think of these things 
in this way ? What does the poet mean to suggest to us by them? 
What are shown (11. 193, 194) to be two of Evangeline's 
occupations ? Which one is she engaged in on this evening? 

What in 11. 199, 200 indicates that their latchstring was 
out as if the family were expecting somebody? What (1. 211) 
shows that Basil came often enough to feel at home? What 
and where (11. 204, 205) was this "accustomed seat" ? Basil says 
that Benedict was always ready, not only with a jest but a ballad. 
What in 1. 187 also shows that he loved to sing ? Why would the 
blacksmith rather than the farmer know what was happening in 
the village and how the people felt ? Even if Benedict had oppor- 
tunity to hear as much about it as Basil had, would he have been 
as much concerned? Of what three important facts (11. 218- 
23) does Basil inform Benedict? Why (1. 228) does Basil answer 
"warmly" to Benedict's surmises? As the Acadians were now 
English subjects, would such surmises be unreasonable? How 
does his mood change in I. 228 ? What two more important facts 
are given in 11. 230-34 ? Since the Acadians were now under the 
English government, and hence would not be expected to bear 
arms against the English, and had been exempted from bearing 
arms against the French, what use could they make of weapons 
if they had them? (See 11. 165, 166.) Since Beau Sejour, a 
French fort (see map), had just been seized by the commander 
who was now in charge of the English ships, and many Acadians 
had been found in it assisting the French, although they had 
agreed to remain neutral in war, which ones among the people had 
probably fled to the forests with anxious hearts? This coming 
trouble was perhaps a case in which the unwise actions of a few 
brought disaster on many. What facts given in 11. 240-45 show 
why Evangeline and her father had not had much time to think 
of the English ships and their meaning ? 



84 Longfellow's 

section iii 

What various proofs are found in these lines (11. 249-310) that 
the notary was as fond of telling stories as Benedict was of joking 
and singing songs? By whom had he been made a prisoner? 
For what ? What does this show as to the influences the French 
had been bringing to bear on the Acadians? Is the long story 
he tells really an example of the triumph of justice, or of how it 
was revealed that a great injustice had been done ? What is its 
effect on Basil ? 

When the notary's story is finished, what preparations 
does Evangeline make for the real business of the evening ? What 
had been their illumination before Evangeline lighted the lamp ? 
What preparations does the notary make ? The notary brings his 
own ink-horn. Did anyone else in the house ever, probably, have 
use for ink? Name some of the things (11. 315-21) that give 
this contract almost the solemnity and binding force of a marriage. 
After the notary's departure, how does Evangeline contrive to 
get an opportunity for a little visit with Gabriel? The poet, 
of course, could not let the visit go on without the wonderful 
moonlight scene of 11. 330, 331. What other scene on this farm 
(11. 167-72) does this same moon light up? How (11. 385, 398) 
was Evangeline's betrothal to be celebrated the next day ? What 
reason, then, aside from the custom of obeying the curfew bell, 
that this household should retire early ? Aside from the increased 
safety, what necessity, in those days, for covering the fire at night ? 
What contrast in grace and lightness of movement indicated 
by the words "resounded" and "soundless" (11. 340, 341)? 
What in 1. 343 indicates Evangeline's great happiness ? How does 
the poet manage (11. 345-47) to give you the impression that 
Evangeline's chamber was as orderly and dainty as she herself is 
shown to be (11. 52-58) ? Compare the order and cleanliness 
suggested by these lines and by 11. 474-77 with the scenes of 11, 559, 
562, 602-4, etc. 

SECTION IV 

How much time is covered by section IV ? Within this day 
are grouped what two all-important events ? How many lines are 
given to the joyous part of the day ? How many to the tragedy ? 






A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 85 

What is Evangeline doing in the first glimpse we have of her 
(11. 381-83) ? What in the second glimpse (11. 399-400) ? With 
which great event of the day does the morning seem to sympa- 
thize ? What cast the only shadows mentioned in the landscape ? 
Which arose first, the people or the sun (1. 366) ? What figure in 
11. 366-67 ? From what other places beside Grand-Pre did Evange- 
line's guests come? In what mood were they? How dressed? 
What are the three chief differences between the street scene of 
11. 375-76 and that of 11. 18-23 ? How were the outsiders enter- 
tained until the feast and dance began ? In what way is it a com- 
pliment to Evangeline to have the people and the fiddler enter 
into her happiness so heartily ? What sound breaks up the dance ? 
A few minutes after the "summons sonorous," the women who 
have just been so gaily dancing are doing what? And the men 
are where ? To whom does the sound of drums entering the door 
of their church sound like "dissonant clangor"? When the 
doors closed are we taken inside or left outside? Does "their" 
(1. 411) refer to the soldiers, or the crowd, or both ? To what does 
the commander refer in 11. 414-15 ? What, to the listening men, 
were the three staggering, unbelievable points of the proclamation 
(11. 418-20, 422)? The six-line simile tells us that these words 
struck their hearts like a sudden storm of hail-stones. What 
(1. 429) was the first thing they did ? the second (1. 430) ? the third ? 
Just as, under the leadership of Basil, bloodshed is about to 
begin, who enters? How does he secure their attention? He 
appeals to them first by what lessons (1. 452) he has taught 
them ? Then by their regard for what (1. 453) ? Then by the 
memory of what words of Christ on the cross? With what 
remarkable result (11. 461-62) ? In 11. 463-67 how does the priest 
wisely strengthen the good attitude he has secured? Had the 
news probably been told to the women in the churchyard ? Can 
you imagine what some of the women, mothers of families, said 
to each other when they met, realizing that they no longer had 
homes ? If Evangeline had gone to the church with the rest when 
the bell rang, why, probably (11. 474-77), had she come home early ? 
The sunset touched these cottages with soft splendor, just as 
lovingly as if they still were the homes of the people. It seemed, 
as Nature is so often made to do in this poem, to be trying to 



86 Longfellow's "evangeline" 

remind the people that, although this temporary calamity had 
overtaken them, the great eternal things were still steadfast, true, 
and worth while. Evangeline, the first time she appears after 
the blow falls, stands long in the full glow of this sunshine, waiting 
and hoping. What does she still seem to believe regarding the 
imprisonment of the men? Long shadows were lying on the 
meadows, the poet says, yet a dewy fragrance was rising from 
them. So with Evangeline's soul. Shadows had fallen upon it, 
but what fragrances (1. 482) were rising from it? Instead of 
spending her time hating the English, what (11. 483-84) does she 
do ? There is no more pathetic touch in the entire poem than that 
in 11. 485-86, which shows the women who had come in from outside 
villages and farms, as they finally start off in the darkness across 
the fields with their tired children to the places that in the morning 
had been their homes. But even as they go, the setting sun and 
the Angelus persistently tell of great and external things. 

After she had helped the women off where does Evangeline go ? 
In what two ways does she try to get some word or sign from her 
father and lover? Evangeline (1. 55) is said to have taken what 
walk to get from her home to the church ? What, then, must she 
now have to do to get from the church to her home ? How does 
the poet (1. 495) let us know that the house was empty ? Com- 
pare 11. 496-98 with 11. 180-98. How does even the weather 
change from that of the night before ? What word used by the 
poet in speaking of the rain makes it seem to sympathize with her ? 
And the thunder, instead of frightening her, soothes her fears how ? 

SECTION v 

During the four days of the men's imprisonment what was 
Evangeline doubtless doing with her father's household goods? 
with her own carefully folded linen and woolen stuffs ? Had she 
doubtless often visited the church? the new house "filled with 
food for a twelvemonth"? Compare 11. 507-8 with 11. 369-73. 
Did the poet intend that the last scene should remind us of the 
first? Judging from 11. 515-16, was there much certainty that 
household goods and the people to whom they belonged would be 
put on the same ship ? How would scenes like those of 11. 506-13 
affect these people who had always lived in one farm home and 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 87 

met but few strangers? At what time are the men released? 
Why not earlier ? In the procession formed as the men march to 
the sea, who come first ? Who last ? In what mood (1. 522) are 
the men now? By whose instructions, probably, do the men 
sing ? Why was it wise to have them do so ? Which had been 
harder during these five days, the lot of the men or of the women ? 

In what two ways (11. 534-35) does Evangeline show self- 
control? How is it that she sees Gabriel before she sees her 
father ? In her little speech to Gabriel what does she set above 
all things else in value ? What interrupts this last meeting with 
her lover? What do the exclamation points after "Alas" and 
"aspect" signify? (Answer: Deep emotion.) Whose emotion? 
(Answer: Evangeline's.) What three ways are mentioned in 
11. 544-45 in which her father has changed ? What has become 
of his hopefulness and his ready song and jest ? Why does she 
make no attempt to comfort him ? 

Evangeline was strong enough to control herself and appear 
cheerful and smiling when she met Gabriel. With her father's 
changed appearance begins the series of blows that, before mid- 
night, will stretch her unconscious and almost lifeless beside her 
dead father on the beach and make the boom of the ocean, which 
accompanied her misery, sound forevermore in her ears. After 
reaching the beach what is the first thing (11. 553-54) that fills 
her with terror and despair? What immediately happened 
(11. 456-68) to make their separation more complete ? What two 
things (1. 561) kept the Acadians who were left on the shore for the 
night from escaping ? Being so near the ocean, in the darkness, 
and under such circumstances, makes what sound (11. 563-64) 
especially noticeable ? Would Evangeline almost feel that Nature 
itself had turned against her when she heard these sounds and 
knew that the out-going tide was making her separation from 
Gabriel more complete? Were the people of Grand-Pre near 
enough to the village to see their homes and hear the lowing of 
the cattle ? Why should the poet give this sad glimpse (11. 566-71) 
of the deserted farms and homes? When the people find that 
they must stay out on the shore all night, what sensible thing do 
they proceed to do ? What (1. 576) shows that the people, as far 
as possible, gathered in family groups about their fires? What 



8S Longfellow's "evangeline" 

was the good priest trying to do when he discovered Evangeline 
and her father? What statements in 11. 581, 582, 584, 585 show 
that the blow that has now fallen on Evangline is the knowledge 
that her father has lost his mind ? And what (11. 583, 584) shows 
that she is, even in this calamity, still trying to make the best of it 
and to do the best thing to be done? What touch of Nature 
(11. 591-92) reminds us again that there are eternal and worthwhile 
things even though there are human troubles ? While Evangeline 
and the priest are still silently weeping over this worst trouble, 
the beginning of what new one attracts their attention? Omit 
the figure and after the word "light" (1. 594) read "Broader," 
etc. (1. 598). Notice how gradually everything about them is 
lighted up. How long, probably, from the time they first notice 
the light until all the houses are burning? After the wind 
increases, what in the material of the houses hastens the burning ? 
What indications are found in 11. 594-604 that the fires were, 
purposely started in the end of the village from which the wind 
was blowing? Could all the Acadians, both on shore and on 
shipboard, see the burning village ? What similarity is noted in 
their actions to those of the men in the church after the procla- 
mation ? What four sounds do they hear from their farm yards ? 
Try to imagine the feelings of the looking, listening Acadians 
through this entire scene. 

A sense of degradation must come into the human heart in 
being thus condemned by other human hearts, and in 'thus seeing 
its most sacred expressions of itself and most sacredly cherished 
rights trampled on. This must be far harder to bear than the 
mere sense of loss or of injustice. Aside from all this, what 
double loss in home associations did Evangeline suffer as she 
watched the fiery destruction ? No wonder she was overwhelmed 
and speechless. What indications in 1. 618 that the fire is now 
consuming the great timbers of the houses? In the midst of 
this calamity of the burning, what climax of desolation comes 
(U. 620, 621) ? Terror seized upon Evangeline. It seemed that, 
in this terrible midnight, supernatural forces of destruction were 
charging in upon her, and she was left to face them alone. Her 
mind, too, must have been unhinged, had not unconsciousness 
saved her. When she awoke in the morning, what two things 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 89 

(11, 626-31) made her think that the Day of Judgment had come ? 
But she soon sees faces of friends, and the presence of human sym- 
pathy and the light of day dispel the dark phantoms. But what 
is she (11. 636-38) compelled to endure ? What thought of some- 
thing to hope for (11. 6^3-3$) helps her to bear it? How does 
Nature seem to try to assist with the meager ceremonies? To 
Evangeline come back the tides of faith, hope, and patience, and 
she goes out with the ships to their unknown destinations. 

Part the Second 
section i 
This part of the poem is often confusing to students, but with a 
little careful study it becomes clear. The first four lines refer to 
what events? With what different wordings do 1. 2 and 1. 645 
in Part the First refer to the same event? LI. 5-15 give in a 
general way an account of whom for a few years immediately after 
the exile? L. 5 tells us what about where they were landed? 
L. 8 tells what about the manner of life of many of them who had 
lost friends? What was the purpose (1. 13) of this wandering? 
LI. 13, 14, 15 show that what happened to many of these wander- 
ers ? Does the fact that so many of them traveled about search- 
ing for friends make Evangeline's journeyings seem more or less 
natural? In what two lines do we get our first new glimpse of 
Evangeline? In 11. 18, 19 what two things indicate that the 
general account of her given in the remainder of this section 
covers probably not more than seven or eight years after the 
banishment ? To what is the part of her life covered by this time 
compared in 11. 25-27? Where had Evangeline been landed 
(11. 587-94, Part the Second) ? What ones of her old friends had 
been also among the group landed there ? See 11. 595, 596, 46, 47, 
53? 54- What (1. 28) indicates that she went to other towns in the 
vicinity of Philadelphia, hoping to find Gabriel? Why did she 
look at the headstones in graveyards ? Why linger by nameless 
graves ? In what two sections of the Far West does she finally 
hear that Gabriel has been seen ? What one of her eld Acadian 
lovers who has been associated with her since the exile is she ad- 
vised to marry ? What does the priest advise her to do about 
giving up her search for Gabriel? What (11. 68-75) shows that 



90 

the poet felt that it was a difficult undertaking to tell aright the 
story of the remainder of Evangeline's life ? 

SECTION II 

We have seen from a study of section I that the "many weary 
years" of 1. i were probably not more than seven or eight years, 
perhaps not more than five; also that during a part of this time 
Evangeline had been searching for Gabriel chiefly among the 
cities of the Atlantic coast. Now she has at last found or made 
opportunity to do what ? Which one of the rumors of section I 
is she following up? From 11. 80-82 does it seem that the 
people who are going to Louisiana are from one town or 
from several ? In the great banishment, what, as shown in 1. 84, 
had happened to all of them ? Doubtless all have searched and 
been disappointed, and all, like Evangeline, have decided to under- 
take this long, perilous journey. Does Evangeline appear to 
have had any real "kith and kin" after her father's death ? Then 
without Gabriel shei s entirely alone save for the friendly Acadians. 
If the others were going to search for their friends, she, too, would 
go to search for Gabriel. The Ohio River is 963 miles long from 
Pittsburgh to the Mississippi. If they started from eastern 
Pennsylvania they had added to this distance several hundred 
miles of travel by water and land. How many hundred miles 
must be added to take them down the Mississippi from the mouth 
of the Ohio ? What wise choice of time had they made for start- 
ing? One and a half lines the poet devotes to the hundreds of 
miles on the Ohio. Beginning with 1. 87, through how many lines 
are they on the Mississippi? What did they do during the 
nights ? Find in these lines four distinct types of country through 
which they passed. Did they find inhabitants on the upper or 
lower part of the river ? 

In what direction did the bayou of Plaquemine open off from 
the river ? Why does the poet give forty lines to their one night 
of trying to get through this bayou, and only twenty-four to their 
nearly two thousand miles on the great rivers ? (Answer : Because 
the experiences of this night brought on the weariness which 
accounts for their sleep when Gabriel passed them.) What, in 






A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 9 1 

the description of the bayou, sounds as if it would not be an easy 
place for strangers to find their way through in the night ? What 
in the nature of the ground kept them from landing and camping 
as usual ? What two sounds broke the deathlike silence ? How 
(11. 1 14-15) did the strangeness and silence and fear of being lost 
affect them ? Why was Evangeline not afraid ? Evangeline has 
heard that Gabriel is a boatman on these waters. What does she 
half hope when the boatman blows his bugle ? Why sleep after- 
ward ? At what hot, sleepy time the next day did they at last get 
out of the bayou ? What shows that there was not breeze enough 
to stir the water ? What flowers of heavy fragrance were near by ? 
Where did they land for a nap ? How conceal the boat ? them- 
selves? What makes Evangeline have happy visions in her 
sleep? What four words (1. 163) indicate the speed with which 
Gabriel's boat moved? Compare 11. 166-68 with "and his face," 
etc. (11. 122-23, Part the First). Would the light of his face 
bring gladness now ? What marks of suffering does he bear ? Is 
he going (1. 165) to any place where there is the slightest possi- 
bility of his finding Evangeline? What (1. 170) is he seeking? 
But Longfellow told us this was to be a tale of woman's devotion. 
What two reasons (1. 172) why Gabriel and his party do not see 
the boat as they almost touch the island in passing ? Aside from 
the reasons already given for their heavy sleep, how does the use 
of the word "lee" (1. 171) help to explain why the sleepers are 
not awakened by the vigorous rowing? As Evangeline's nerves 
were now all the time tingling at the thought that she might soon 
meet Gabriel, how do you account for what she thinks (11. 180-82) 
may be a supernatural impression ? What opportunity has the 
priest had within the last few days to get the positive information 
he gives to Evangeline in 11. 190-97 ? Do you think she heard 
much of his description of the country in the last four lines of his 
speech after hearing 1. 192 ? They are within an hour's journey 
of Gabriel's home. Why has he not told her this before ? What 
effect does it have on her (11. 205-7) ? Read aloud the description 
of the song of the mocking-bird. What does it say to us that it 
does not say to poor EvangeHne ? At what time of day do they 
arrive at Gabriel's home? 



92 LONGFELLOW S 

SECTION III 

LI. 222-45 give us what details of the home noticed by 
Evangeline as the boat drew up to the landing? What other 
description of a home in the poem (11. 63-83) ? We noticed that 
the account of Evangeline's home dealt entirely with the exterior 
and surroundings. Notice whether this account of Gabriel's 
new home does the same. What two points in 1. 226 are the 
same as two given in the description of Grand-Pre (1. 2) ? What 
must Evangeline be expecting and half hoping ? What one sign 
of life and habitation do they see about the house ? Make a little 
fiat map of the river, landing, garden fence with gate in the rear, 
garden, dove-cots, house, and grove back of garden with path 
running through it to the edge of the prairie where they see Basil. 
Notice that ''groves of oak" (1. 241) and "woodlands" (I. 246) 
refer to the same thing. As they watch Basil what do they see 
him do (11. 254-60) ? While he is doing this, what are they doing ? 
Where are they when they become sure that the herdsman is really 
Basil? If they went back into the garden and had friendly 
embraces, laughter, weeping, endless questions and answers, and 
times of sitting silent, how long, probably, was it before Gabriel 
was mentioned ? Is it at all likely that Evangeline for a moment 
ceased to wonder about him ? Why did she not ask at once about 
him? Where (11. 534-36) have you seen her exercise similar 
reserve and self-control? How does Basil show that he dislikes 
and dreads to break the bad news ? So thus ends the expectancy 
and weariness of the long journey and the happy certainty of 
the hours on the lake after the priest had told her that Gabriel 
was surely here. What in Basil's account of the reasons for his 
going (11. 279, 283, 284) must have pleased her? What, in the 
account, shows that the poet means to use the device of contrast 
to heighten our admiration of Evangeline? What suggestions 
(11. 280, 284-86) that Gabriel's grief had made him selfish ? Have 
we any such suggestions anywhere regarding Evangeline ? What 
excuse had his father found for sending him away from home ? 
What, for her comfort and Gabriel's good, does Basil immediately 
propose? Would the journey he proposed to make be an easy 
one for a man of Basil's age and business cares? Explain the 
two last reasons he gives (1. 291) for thinking they will soon 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 93 

overtake Gabriel. What joke does he try to make in 1. 243 ? 
What member of Basil's household seems to have been entertain- 
ing Evangeline's travel companions while she and Father Felician 
were visiting with Basil ? What was Michael doing when we last 
saw him ? How would the sight of him be likely to affect Evange- 
line ? Did Basil (11. 302-4) leave any doubt in the minds of the 
newcomers as to the genuineness of his welcome ? What three 
things do they wonder at as he talks ? Does Basil appear to have 
lost or gained in a financial way and in ease of living by the 
banishment? Where (1. 310) had all this visiting taken place? 
What two things (1. 312) must have been welcome to the travel- 
worn Acadians? Why "sudden darkness" (1. 313) ? What nine 
arguments does Basil use (11. 322-33) to persuade them to settle 
in this vicinity? Who had been invited in for the evening in 
honor of the arrival of the visitors? Which ones of the invited 
guests would the newcomers be particularly glad to see ? What 
proof (11. 347-49) that not all the Acadians who had settled here 
had lived in Grand-Pre? In the dance that followed (11. 350-57) 
what things were almost exactly similar to her betrothal dance ? 
But at that time where was her father, who was her partner, and 
what were her prospects ? Would not this dance make her miss 
Gabriel more keenly? What in 1. 360 shows that vivid memories 
of the terrible night of her separation from Gabriel, the destruction 
of her homes, and the death of her father come upon her ? Would 
the peculiar beauty of the night increase or lessen her grief? 
Where does she go ? And what does she, as always, gain from com- 
munion with herself and with nature (1. 392) ? With what cheer- 
ful accompaniments (11. 400-402) do they start early the next 
morning? How (1. 403) do they follow Gabriel? Where, after 
many days of disappointment, do they get their first news of him ? 
Evangeline had reached Basil's home the very day that Gabriel 
left. How much is the time of missing him now increased ? 

SECTION IV 

In what language (11. 413-14) does Longfellow refer to the 
Rocky Mountains ? What rivers does he speak of as flowing west 
from these mountains? What ones as flowing east? to the 
south (11. 420-22) ? Evangeline and Basil found on arriving at 



94 Longfellow's 

Adayes that Gabriel had taken the road to the prairies. Where 
(1. 424) does the poet locate these prairies ? The streams he has 
mentioned are far apart and some of them are indefinitely located. 
We can see, however, that he does not intend to take Evangeline 
in her travels farther north than southern Colorado, or much, 
if any, west of the Rocky Mountains. In the lines describing the 
prairies what three kinds of vegetation does he speak of ? What 
six kinds of wild animals ? What does he say of the fires ? of the 
winds ? of the Indians ? Why do the vultures follow their war- 
trails? What touch of nature closes the description as if to say 
that even this wild region is still under the protecting hand of 
God ? For their journey into this country what companions do 
they take (1. 443) ? How do they travel (1. 507) ? What was 
provided for Evangeline's comfort and protection (1. 464) ? How 
did Basil and the guides sleep at night (11. 462-63) ? What did 
they eat (1. 459) ? How did they have to procure food (1. 461) ? 
They started out each morning expecting what to happen before 
night ? What two things in the face of the Shawnee woman who 
entered their camp immediately appealed to Evangeline? Did 
they treat her with suspicion as a spy? What language must 
this woman speak, since Evangeline understands her? Where 
had she doubtless learned it since her husband was a coureur-des- 
bois ? Show that the poet thinks of this woman as of one with 
a heart as human and sympathetic as Evangeline's. Has the 
motherless, sisterless Evangeline had, in all her troubles, much 
opportunity for woman's sympathy? Of the two stories the 
Shawnee tells after she hears Evangeline's story, which one shows 
that she thinks Gabriel may have been only an illusion ? Which 
one shows that she fears he may be an evil spirit leading Evange- 
line on to destruction? What was the effect of the stories on 
Evangeline ? How, in 1. 499, does her healthy nature assert itself ? 
The night Evangeline spent at Basil's home was the time of full 
moon, and again it was full moon at the time of the Indian woman's 
visit. Was it just a month later? Of what nationality (11. 523- 
24) is the priest at the mission where they go ? Was Evangeline 
right in thinking that if Gabriel were in this part of the country 
he would be certain to go there sooner or later ? What did they 
find going on when they arrived in sight of the mission ? What 



A STUDY AND INTERPRETATION 95 

would Evangeline be looking and hoping for? By how much 
does she learn that she has missed Gabriel this time ? How did 
the priest try to console her when the autumn came without 
bringing Gabriel ? What time of the year was it when she arrived 
at the mission (11. 543-44) ? How long did she stay there ? How 
does the priest show us (11. 542, 550, 562, 564) that this time of 
waiting without even a rumor of Gabriel was as hard to bear as 
her other disappointments ? When, in her second summer there, 
a rumor came of Gabriel still alive, though in far-away Michigan, 
to what does the poet compare it (1. 566) ? How does this journey 
to Michigan compare in difficulty with either of the other two ? 
By whom was she accompanied on her first long journey ? on the 
second ? on this one ? In what respect is the result of this journey 
more disappointing than either of the others ? To what does the 
"Thus" of 1. 574 refer? In how many lines does the poet sum 
up the remaining years — fifteen or twenty — of Evangeline's 
searchings? Did she take any more long journeys (1. 575)? 
What five different sorts of places that she visited are mentioned ? 
What war was fought, during this time, in which she seemed to 
think Gabriel might be engaged? What changes did the years 
and the disappointments work in her appearance ? 

SECTION V 

Read the six lines which describe Philadelphia. Explain 
1. 591. For what four reasons did Evangeline choose this city for 
a home after giving up her search? What remarkable change 
took place in her (11. 608-10) ? • What was her feeling toward 
Gabriel (11. 511-15) ? What three things had her life taught her ? 
Quote passages to show that the poet thinks her love was not 
wasted. What shows (11. 621-22) that she had entirely given 
up the hope of ever seeing Gabriel ? Among what people did she 
choose to work (11. 624-26) ? What two ways does the poet take 
of showing how unselfishly she gave herself to her work (11. 627- 
32) ? Did this continue long before she found Gabriel (1. 623) ? 
How does the poet show the extent of the pestilence that finally 
came upon the city ? that it seized upon all classes alike ? What, 
at that time, was the location of the almshouse to which the very 
poor went who were ill with the plague ? As soon as the plague 



96 Longfellow's "evangeline" 

broke out, Evangeline began to labor in what place ? What sa- 
cred associations (11. 655, 661-63) does the poet throw around the 
time of the final sad accomplishment of her search? At what 
season of the year was it ? What time of day ? What character- 
istic act does Evangeline do as she passes through the garden ? 
What effect do the beauty of the morning, the odor of the flowers, 
the church chimes, and the singing of the Swedes have upon her 
spirit (11. 624-26) ? What scene (11. 667-70) meets her eyes 
as she enters the "chambers of sickness" ? What was the effect 
on the sick of her entrance ? She notices that what changes have 
been made among the patients during the night? How is she 
affected (11. 678-83) by the sight of one of these strangers who 
has been brought in during the night ? What (11. 689, 692-94) 
caused the cry of anguish? Why (11. 684, 685) did she not 
instantly recognize him? How had she always thought of him 
and remembered him (11. 611-14) ? Did this add to her shock of 
grief? What (11. 686-88) helps her to be sure it is Gabriel? 
What two things (11. 695-98) brought him slowly back to con- 
sciousness? What vision comes into his mind? After he opens 
his eyes, in what three ways (11. 705-707, 709) does Evangeline 
know that he recognizes her ? What proof (1. 709) that the recog- 
nition comforted him in death? For what reasons then may 
Evangeline be thankful ? 

CONCLUSION 

Where (11. 716-19) did Evangeline arrange to have Gabriel 
buried and to be buried herself when her work on earth should 
be done ? As the lovers, so long separated in life, lie together at 
last in death, what does the poet say (11. 720-24) is going on 
about them? The last ten lines take us back to what place? 
What other race now dwells there ? Where may a few Acadians 
still be found ? Since they no longer own the land, what is their 
occupation ? What is there in these cottages to remind us of the 
old Acadian times ? And what are ocean and forest still doing ? 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




^ 



